The Red Tulip
by Big Cat
Summary: Lord Havelock Vetinari makes the biggest step in his life he gets married to Sam Vimes's baby sister, an amazon named The Red Tulip.
1. Chapter 1

The night used to come a little bit slower in this area of the Disc. The sun usually detour the unscalable mountains pouring its rays somewhere else. Living so near the Cory Selesty peak had its positives. The legends about the Cory Reds and the God's contribution into the human race made a lot of the travellers rethink before entering the Uyman pass. In fact it was the safest track through the mountains but there were no so many men that could pluck up their courage and stand against the vicious Amazons – the daughters of Gods1.

Bettina counted on that. She was still very young to be called a full member of the Amazon community but being adopted by a noblewoman would open some doors. The problem was that she was adopted by a noblewoman apparently becoming a military leader of a division where the martial spirit was granted more than someone's nobility.

When her adoptive mother found her wailing in the snow she was too young to have a child but being a captain of a regiment gives you some special rights. Bettina was more than obliged. She new what was to be expected from her even if she wasn't Lady Antonia's real daughter. It's known that the courage is not inheritable although everyone expected its appearance.

Bettina huddled herself to warmth against the biting cold. She was winded her warm stole around her steel uniform and tried not to shimmer. There were only few moments to the sun down. The time was to come.

Her fingers clung to the snow to prevent the stitch into her veins. The Amazon should never show her feeling, neither let anyone guess what she thinks, her tutors inculcated it in her mind since she became five years old. Her adoptive mother was still teenager and during her wartime exploits her tutors became the child's ones. A nasty way to spend your childhood.

Bettina smiled to herself. The sky became dark red and there already was a dark blue sight at the edge of it.

Any moment… Just wait one more moment…

The carriage rushed out of the pass, opened its door and swallowed Bettina in full swing.

'Good evening, mother', greeted Bettina while settling on the velvet seat. She smoothed her hair and adjusted the leather straps of her breastplate. The young lady at the opposite side on the carriage lowered her head and sighed.

---

'…and that's why we are to be extremely careful, Commander. The wedding is expected to become the centre of everyone's attention. After all Amazons happens to marry not that often.'

Vetinari glanced at Sam Vimes's face and welcomed his lack of expression. It was not easy to develop such strength of vision the Commander of the City Watch had achieved lately. It was a riddle for everyone who knew him, including His Lordship, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, well known for his practical absence of a face air.

'Me and my stuff would do all that lie on our pour.' Added Vimes, fastening his eyes on that point an inch higher and aside from Vetinari's head.

'Which is not that less if I could mention the Watch's last contribution into the civilian society… lately?' The Patrician added his transient smile and turned his attention onto Commander's eyes.

The truth was that lately there was something odd in the Commander's behaviour. There were rumours about some noise into the Vimes-Ramkin's estate. It started few weeks ago when came the first report indicating Ankh-Morpork as the pot where the noble wedding would be held. Actually it was a mystery for all that has some nobility in his blood and cote of arms over his gate. Inclusive lord Havelock Vetinari. The lack of spy into the Vimes-Ramkin's mansion he perceived as his own failure. After all no spy would go to the Scoon Avenue's toughest position. He put up with it. But the multitude refusals of the Vimes-Ramkin's stuff to co-operate were too much. It was obvious that sir Samuel Vimes had established quite unexpected loyalty. The Patrician learned his lesson and put some notes into his invisible mental notebook.

'What do you know about the Amazons, Commander?' Vetinari lifted up and moved to the large open window.

Vimes draw his attention over the window-sill where His Lordship had put his hands.

'Not much, sir', answered Vimes. 'All I have to know now is that a member of that unknown for us tribe would be wed soon enough to panic the entire world'.

'Very penetrating, Vimes' added Vetinari, still gazing at outward world. 'I see you have reached the point of my chat invitation. Please, have a seat.' The Commander was still standing. Vetinari raised his eye brows. 'It is going to be quite long'. He put himself back behind the well-arranged desk.

Sam Vimes stared at the empty armchair in his left and wistfully obeyed.

'It has come to my attention', ensconced the Patrician, 'that the groom is the one we have to worry about.' He put his fingers into the top desk drawer and extracted a heavy yellow file. 'Lord Stephen Marmora, pampered aristocrat, very rich, has a lot of friends --and spies-- everywhere – mostly because of his fortune. Has an excellent military drill and amazing knowledge in the martial arts. Some see him as the next warlord of Smaiil, although has no interest in politics. But who knows… He might become a good ally or… a vicious enemy.'

Vetinari turned his eyes up expecting to see Vimes's attention drawn on the file on his lap. It wasn't. The Duke's eyes were looking somewhere else. Vetinari tried to trace them but there was nothing to be seen on that side of the Oblong Office. Maybe the wall and the swept corner where the fat Agathean vase was put on.

'What is wrong, Commander?' jittered His Lordship. Vimes looked at his face and stood his eyes on his. That made Vetinari really wary. 'Is there anything I could help you? I see there is something you are fighting with but as I well know sometimes we all need an ally.' He leaned in his uncomfortable ugly chair and pacifically put his palms up on his knees. 'Share.'

Vimes lit his eyes over the Patrician's lap and tried to read his eyes. Yes, Vetinari had a complex personality, but he new him long enough to decipher the signals he managed to express. That wan was evidently showing him that there was no risk of misunderstanding.

Maybe the time has come. Sybil was strong woman but she was not that able to give him the support and mostly – the relief – he needed. There was too long since he received _that_ letter. From then on there was no quietness and mostly – no peace in his mind. Maybe there was a time to share it with some one else. And Vetinari – strangely Vimes thought he was the perfect one to speak to – was there. How conveniently.

'Maybe this is not the perfect time, but…' Vimes turned his attention to the Patrician's patience of face and the way his eyes _did not_ startle. 'I have a confession to do.'

Vetinari put his ears on and relaxed in order to receive what Vimes had to say. Probably it was not something that would worth to be heard, but Vetinari knew Sir Samuel for quite long and could easily read his face. The confusion it drawn was a bad sign. He had to do his best to help that spiritually nobleman from the pain he had in his soul.

He lit his eyebrows and settled cosy in his chair.

'I am listening, Your Grace', added Vetinari. Sam Vimes put his eyes on his and trembled with his lips. 'This is not easy to say what is in my heart…' started Vimes, sighing deeply. 'I guess you don't know my father. He was…' he screwed his eyes for a moment. 'He actually was not that bad, as I remember, of course, but I knew him not that long to judge.' He bend his head, so his confidante not to see the birth of tears which he swallowed rapidly.

'My mother used to tell me the way my father died.' Vimes continued. 'I was always thinking falling under a carriage a very stupid way to die. It looks like my mother had a bizarre way of vengeance.' Vimes stood up and fasted himself to the open window to have a breath. 'It seems like my mother was lying to me all those years. He was not dead. He just… left…'

'I see', added Vetinari and lifted himself from his chair. There was always some exact distance between them both which made them such a good team, according to Vetinari's observations. He couldn't destroy that distance even if _his_ Commander was in pain standing over there; just a few meters away and definitely needed someone's shoulder to lean on.

It is not easy to understand that the truth you know well is not the truth as it is. Sometimes parents save their children the truth because it could heart their small worlds and force them into the painful reality. Vetinari realized that now – about fifty years later, Commander Samuel Vimes, the Duke of Ankh, the nobleman in spirit and position had to face some very painful moments. The truth of someone father's death occurred frequently in most of His Lordship spy's reports. It is obvious it has some unpleasant status for the person bounded with it.

He get into a mood to listen more carefully. Vimes turned slowly to him.

'It looks like my father left our home to… marry again. As you have noticed since some weeks I am not in a mood, but it happens that I have received a letter from a person calling herself my… sister… and apparently she is the one we call now _The bride_…'

'Excuse me', Vetinari shook his head. 'I might not understand your last words. Am I right, I heard you mention Lady Antonia de Constar?'

'Yes, I did.' sighed Vimes. 'She seems to be my father's daughter.'

Vetinari settled back in his chair. It was something to worry about. Yes. Now he could understand Commander's embarrassment. It was obvious he had the right to be furious. Nobody expected this to happen to him, especially if he always thought he was his parents' only child. And now this… So dully…

'Now I understand your behaviour, Your Grace.' Hinted Vetinari. 'It really is a bit of shock. The question is: How you feel about it?'

'How do I feel?' shouted Vimes. 'I feel like an ass. I have _a sister_ I didn't know and _she_ appears to be _an Amazon_ and about _to marry_. This is how I feel!'

He growled angrily and settled back in his armchair.

Vetinari tried not to look too obstructive and lowered his eyes on the green file in the open desk's drawer. It was Lady Antonia's. He knew too little about that woman, turned out to be his best Watch officer's baby sister. Such a progress. Would it become something he could aware of? Does it require some analytically measures he had to launch? Should he expect from this situation some levels of danger?

Vimes had put his eyes in his palms. Vetinari knew it is even a bigger shock for the man he was trying to observe. Such an out of lack. Or maybe the opposite – such a piece of good fortune… Who knows?

'What are you intending to do, Sir Samuel?'

Vimes lit his eyes and took a deep breath.

'What could I?' he helplessly sighed. 'Shall wait and see. This appears to be the best way not to be hurt. I don't even know her. She is the one who contact me. I didn't have a chance to prepare for this kind of shock.'

'No one has', added the Patrician. 'The most important here is to react wisely, Sir Samuel. After all it might be a chance to have a sister as your ally. As I've heard the Amazons are very loyal people. And quite domestic. If you ask for my advice it is: Wait to see; See to react; And react not to loose.'

Vimes pondered over for a minute. There was something very wise into the Patrician's words. He might not be a clever man, but he was stubborn enough to make himself reacting as a politician. He never had a chance to be one – the Policeman inside him was too jealous to make a place for someone else. Maybe there was a time for it.

In times like this Vimes had no chance to hide what he was thinking from His Lordship. In moments of a true jar he was the only person that could calmly observe the situation and take the right decision in order to prevent bigger problems. It was one of his most respectful virtues that made him the best person each of the city guilds would nominate for the higher position he occupied.

While Vimes was still in his imaginary world, Lord Vetinari already had some draws in his invisible notepad. Vimes could be very useful, nevertheless of his bizarre moods and action virtue. He was not stupid, had his head on his neck and was a pride man. The nobility he was forced to made him even more bizarre, but he was well known as a man you can rely on in time when you have to put your force on. His soul was so full of emotions – more that anyone else's. That puzzled Vetinari, but it gave him possibilities he couldn't get other way. Yes, Vimes was a helpful subject in his part-time experiments. Now he was to become a bigger part in the city's future business. Who knows, it might be successful.

---

Dr. Downey had a hard moment. The clacks were obviously not joking. The Amazons were really coming to Ankh-Morpork. He had some unpleasant memories since his travel to the Cory Selesty area where his family was originated from. There are things one can not forget. Especially the ones that made you wake up with tears. He was just a teenager when his father presented him the vacation away from the city he was raised. It was interesting in the beginning, but then the incident…

Years before heading the Assassins guild of Ankh-Morpork Septimus Downey had a shock that changed his entire world. The word he used to tremble at appeared now. The Amazons were back. It was a trial for his nerves, and has to become his own war field if something goes wrong. There should be no chance for them to get him again. The boy he was then was gone now.

---

Captain Carrot pressed Angua's shoulders while she was still sleeping. It was already morning. Well, the sun was still hiding under the Circle Sea, but the watch he was gifted for his birthday beat five times. He was so used to wake up at about five that it became a part of his daily schedule.

Angua's shoulders lifted up. She opened her eyes.

'What happens, Carrot', she yawned. 'Can't sleep again?'

'Does it trouble you, dear?' Carrot's eyes were embarrassed enough to make Angua smile.

'You can't trouble me, Carrot. You are my husband and I have the feeling that the only person who could trouble someone is me.'

Carrot's face lightened. He pressed himself into her body trying not to hurt the baby in her womb. There was not much time left till the childbirth. The pregnancy suited Angua. Originally she was quite flat but now she had a lot to show.

The only problem had some kind of delicacy. The race of the child was a question held in them both since they were together for first time. They knew they would marry. It was a matter of time. They had planned a small wedding, about twenty guests – mostly colleagues from the Watch. But there were so many greetings and presents and letters from people they didn't even know… Leaving the Yo's temple they saw the street overcrowded with people. They all came to see Captain Carrot marrying a werewolf. Not Angua the Sergeant, nor Angua the beautiful neighbour. That made her irritated but when she saw his happiness she realized she was not Angua the werewolf any more. She was Angua – captain Carrot's wife.

Now when she had his head on her left shoulder, she was really happy. He made her happy. His magic became a part of hers and she really hoped the child would have a chance to show his face on its. 'Let it has no fur! Let it has no fur!' she repeated in her mind, hoping that would be heard by someone that has a power to make it true.

He lit his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The house they occupied was old one floured morporkian building with a large basement quite suitable for a couple middling dwarf families. The Bronchi's and the Smelter's were very grateful craftsmen. When the Ironfounderson's bought the house the families were allowed to stay. The house was a wreck. Soon enough it was repaired and rebuild here and there. That was the dwarf's way to say 'Thank you'.

Now Carrot could rely on the dwarfs when he was leaving for work. Angua would be let in good hands especially now when the child could appear any moment.

He stood up and put on his wool cardigan. The steel chain armour was put on the chair, near the polished breastplate. He forced himself to reach for them. He was worried. Angua was in a bizarre mood lately and he didn't want to leave her now. He had the strange feeling he had to stay home with her.

But Commander Vimes needed him and he couldn't escape his duty. He had a chance to avail himself of the Commander's offer for a parental leave, but Carrot hadn't had a holiday since his small travel to Ubervald searching for Angua.

He had to do his job because he was good at it. And it made him happy.

Angua had to admit that he was right. She was not in a mood to see him walking around her, babysitting her everywhere. She was furious enough that she had to leave the Watch last month. It was not fair. Yes, she was round and heavy and wasn't moving fast enough. But she could manage with her duties, no matter of the way everyone was looking at her. She was not a child and didn't need everyone acting like she had no pride. It was a disgrace.

Carrot brushed his hair and turned to the bed she was still in.

'I will be back as soon I could. If you need a hel…'

'I am not an invalid, dear.' Darted Angua her look at him. 'I am just pregnant.'

Carrot knew that look well enough to avoid continuing of the subject. He drew near to her, bowed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Than put his lips on her paunch and lifted smiling.

'And don't let Mr. Vimes do that', said Angua when Carrot was leaving. He reopened the door and nervously opened his mouth. Than reconsidered that the words would not do the effect and smiled back.

---

The embassy of Smaiil was settled in a nice and quiet neighbourhood facing the embassy of Pseudopolis and not far from the small embassy of Lancre. The building was well preserved observing the total failure in the architecture and material ignorance. The architect was obviously mad man, because there could not be such a big living room while the kitchen was so abnormal small.

The Ambassador of Smaiil was a slim tall man with strange eyebrows so different by colour of his hair, that most of the people thought he had a wig. He hadn't. His eyebrows were artificial. Having a wife so practically in love with dragons make you an object of aggression by her charge, especially if you don't share her way of thought.

His Excellency Sir Thodeas Windswan Bryant de Panaretos was still young for an ambassador but his mind proved himself as a man you can rely on. His political career started since the end of his twenty's. His father was King Goran's best counsellor. At the time he died Sir Thodeas had established a name as a man related to the politics, the best candidate to send on a mission. Ankh-Morpork was a place everyone had to dream for. A city that gives you such opportunity you could only dream of.

He was happy to be in this position. No only as an Ambassador in this City of Ankh-Morpork. But mainly because his wife that chose to stay in Smaiil with her preferable dragons. He had much more time to be with his mistress he came with. The irony was that in constant to his fellows smaiilians his wife chose her. Madam Sarah Merintale was the best seamstress he could get in contract with. So different from the ladies he used to meet here and there. She knew techniques that made her irreplaceable both in bed and in public. Such a shame she chose that profession. She could be the best wife ever.

Sir Thodeas was expecting the arrival of Lord Stephen Marmora. They knew each other from the school. Not best friends, of course, but the Game made them both brothers during their trip in Smaiil's mountains.

The Game was named after its creator, Sir Simon Mate. It was a mixture of chess and field strategy. The couples – one strategist and one action figure – should learn to work together in order to survive. Sir Thodeas was a strategist. He had everything on mind, while Lord Stephen had always been an action man. They worked so successfully that made them Team No 1 for several years.

Sir Thodeas was expecting his old mate hoping he could remember the old times. Well, they couldn't play the Game here, but the planes could be a good practicing field.

Madam Sarah arrived from the shopping tour carrying her purchases through the servants door. Old habit.

'Dear, I am back', she shouted while she was unbuttoning her coat. 'Is he arrived?' she asked entering the study he was in.

'Not yet, sunshine.' Answered Sir Thodeas, reading some of the confidential papers on his desk. 'Any minute, I presume.'

'Fine.' Added Sarah. 'What would you like for dinner? I thought Lord Stephen would enjoy my smashed potato lamb pie and the stressed grape muffins you like so much. The cook is pealing the potato already. The grapes is in the cognac and soon will be in a good shape for the oven.'

'Yummy, dear', smiled Sir Thodeas and moved his chair enough to let her sit on his lap. She kissed him melodious. He turned the kiss back. She glanced at the papers on his desk. 'What are you reading?'

'Some files about the Amazon woman His Grace is about to marry', answered Sir Thodeas.

'Oh, that Lady Annabelle…'

'Antonia, dear'

'Yes, I remember.' She put her lisp on his forehead. 'Such a waist'

The Ambassador looked at his mistress. 'What do you mean, dear?'

'I mean her' she answered glancing at the papers again. 'All knows that the Amazons don't marry. What did she do to deserve such punishment?'

Lord Thodeas smiled at himself. His mistress had more wisdom than anyone he had to talk to that week. The Amazons don't marry. That was the first thing the researcher learns while observing the Quart affairs. It happened only several times in its thousand year's history. No wonder why the world was forced its way into Ankh-Morpork these days. Everyone had to see the wedding of the century.

'I also thought about it, dear', he glanced at her. 'What did she do to deserve such punishment…?'

'I heard she was some kind of a war hero', added Sarah. 'The girls on the market say so funny stuff. Most of them is sheer nonsense of course but who knows… Do you know what I heard: The queen of Quart was deeply in love with her but The Lady wasn't sharing her feelings! That was the queen's revenge. So odd, don't you think, dear?'

'You might be right, sunshine. As always you might be right…'

Sir Thodeas fastened his eyes on the door leading to the large entrance-hall. There was a noise coming from outside. He stood up, letting her step on her feet. She didn't have to be told what to do. She smoothed over her hair and corrected her lipstick. Lord Stephen was a man with some standards. Even his mistresses had to obey them.

Both of them walked to the main door when it opened. The advance party burst into the hall with their crossbows up. The Ambassador and his lady were having fun observing their rummage. Only when they established everything was in order they lowered weapons and escorted the 'package' in.

The 'package' was too big to be packed with any kind of paper. He was a tall slim man with a handsome face and searching eyes. His arms were in his trousers pockets and his look was so boyish that made Sir Thodeas put on his smile.

'Thod, you mouse catcher!' yelled the man and moved forward to get the Ambassador's hand. 'Still alive, still young and still good taste as I see the lady nearby. You! Get in here!'

Both men hugged and laughed.

Madam Sarah was expelled from the couple and found her way into the kitchen where the cook was trying to find a place for the potato masher. The ring on the servants door surprised her. When she opened it she found a bunch of house maids dressed in the Smaiil's servant uniforms. They were scared and tired. It was obvious they were out of home for first time. The oldest one was fourteen.

'Good evening, Madam,' said the girl. 'I am Lucy, the Head servant of His Grace. These are Millie, Jane and Monica. Just tell us where to put our stuff and where His Grace is going to sleep. We know what to do next.'

Sarah smiled at them. It was not long time ago when she was a part of a bunch like this one.

'The servants premises are over there. The Green guest room is upstairs just at the end of the hub passage. The cook is going to show you what to do. We are backing smashed potato lamb pie and stressed grape muffins.'

'Well done,' smiled Lucy and stepped toward the narrow passage to the servants rooms. In few seconds everyone was back dressed with clean uniforms. Lucy gave her orders. The maids dispersed. They all had work to do. In an hour time the dinner was ready and the house was as clean as never before.

'Where do you intend to live with you wife?' started madam Sarah, when the dinner plates were removed. 'You could not live in Smaiil, or in Quart. After all the couple have to have an independent life.'

Lord Stephen almost chocked. Sarah looked at her lover's face expecting to see his disapproval. There was no such. He was smiling at her. They knew each other for long enough to think almost the same.

'Excuse my lady for the rapid curiosity.' Added Sir Thodeas when putting his strong hand over his back. He coughed once more and put his tearing eyes over the lady in his left.

'I had no time to think about it, actually' he answered with some difficulty in his voice. 'It came to me as a shock. I didn't know I was the chosen one for this particular task.'

'So, as I presume the marriage is not a subject of a love affair?'

'No, it isn't'. He turned his asking eyes on his left where Sir Thodeas was settled. It was obvious he was having fun.

'You can answer her question', advised the Ambassador. 'It is better for you. She wouldn't stop asking if you don't. Be a good boy and satisfy her curiosity.'

Lord Stephen helplessly turned to the blue stare of the lady. She was waiting.

'I don't even know the woman,' he sighed. 'I was ordered to do my duty and enter the matrimonial state. Is that enough?'

'So you obeyed the orders you were given?' she asked back.

'Yes, I did.' Reported His Grace.

'Because you are a soldier?'

'Indeed.'

'Don't you fancy anyone?'

'Had no time.' He answered picking up his fork ready to stick it to the hot muffin.

'Poor man!' she shook her head. 'Look dear', she turned to the Ambassador. 'The King is a wise man, as I have always said. He knew that the man had no time to pick up a wife, so hi was doing this job for him. Such lucky people we are!'

'Indeed, sunshine!' laughed Sir Thodeas. 'And I was thinking this marriage has political reasons.'

'It still has, dear. The King has his reasons to kill two birds with one stone. Perhaps the Quart queen has the same thoughts. After all the peace is made by suffering. It is obvious who we have to thank for the time of peace we are about to live in.'

'You read my mind.' Smiled Sir Thodeas and raised his eyebrows answering the gesture given by his guest.

Lord Stephen was still wondering at the situation he was forced in but soon enough he understood the subtext of it all. He laughed for long until his eyes watered and started running. Soon enough the laughter passed to a deep pensiveness and his eyes burrowed in darkness.

The couple didn't need a face translator to see what embraced their guest's spiritual world. Lord Stephen was usually a likable man, nevertheless of his military experience that definitely made men more concentrated and unsusceptible interlocutors. He had a noble spirit, was a good game partner and mostly the best company one could find.

Looking at him now he had a different detachment.

'You are thinking to much, dear friend' added Sir Thodeas. 'As I heard, Lady Antonia de Constar was a very beautiful woman. We shall see her soon so I offer you to relax and wait to see what happens.'

The man was still gazing at the pot in the distance no one could see. Madam Sarah turned to her lover's face and lifted her forehead. He put his fingers on his lips and smiled. There was a time to talk and a time to listen. Lord Stephen's deep breath spread through the dining-room. It had a calming trend, comfortably settling its normal rhythm. There was a time when the army recruits were showed his presence of mind as the best desired for those who had expectations in the army life.

'I don't even know the woman' repeated Lord Stephen. 'And she doesn't know me. I guess this would be the shortest marriage ever.'

Madam Sarah smiled satisfactory.

'My mother used to say something very wise I forced to remember: 'Life is full of surprises. Don't waste your time guessing what they are'.

'Let's drink for the future we don't know!' Sir Thodeas raised his glass.

'To the future we can not change', added the lady.

Lord Stephen took a deep breath and followed them: 'For the future --what ever it is'.

---

Being in a position to judge people by the first sight was Sam Vimes' best gift. He had developed it for years, but the knowledge he had laid up in his mental background was as warm woollen blanket. Knowing so much about human – and nonhuman – expression had some good and bad sides. The good was that he had not to hide his own personality from those he thought as reliable. The bad were the possibility of being wrong.

His Grace the Duck of Ankh stood still outside the Watch Headquarters at Pseudopolis Yards. The crowd before him was yelling, each of the men were certain of his words been heard by. The apprehension of been misunderstood made them yell even louder.

The Commander was listening. Each of them separately and all of them as one. The voices were too quiet compared to his own voice threatening to explode.

'You have to do something, Sir', yelled a slim shivering man next to the huge figure of Detritus, leaned on the two undersized casters, having their last attempt in a city rebellion.

'The Amazons will kill us all cried Mr. Strong-in-the-arm, loading his newly repaired crossbow. 'Don't let them come, otherwise we will strike!'

Commander had his eyes glared long enough and when he moved the crowd moved back. No one had the courage to see Mr. Vimes in action. Perhaps some of them had some more important thing to do. Making their testaments for example.

'If I see one more weapon up I will let your wives know where you were buried.' He grumbled. The pavement in front of the Watch house rung out.

'Scatter out!' yelled Vimes and turned back to the entrance. He didn't have to have one more eye on his back to know that the crowd had disperse in a flash. Commander's back had the same obstructive effect as his eyes.

The door behind him opened and Detritus waved his arms still holding the couple.

'That was great, Sir!' saluted the troll. The fellow in his right fist flied off and settled on the elevated desk where Sergeant Collon was trying to enjoy the current events.

'Sorry, Sir!' saluted the troll again. His left hand lifted the next wretch dashing on the wall and falling loosing conscious.

'Oops!' cried Detritus. The stuff rushed to the bodies whining on the floor.

'Be more careful, Detritus!' hinted the Commander and rushed up to his office. The watchmen exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. They had to admit that Mr. Vimes was in one of his moods appearing too often lately, which made him the worst man to share glasses with. The noise from the office above made them all wander where to patrol tonight. Being near their commanding officer was not the best job lately.

'What happens?' walked in Captain Carrot. 'I saw constables Red shoe and Balky carrying two very drunk men down the street.'

'It was Detritus, Sir', answered Sergeant Collon and followed Carrot's quick march. 'There were some protestors on the doors and someone threw a stone, you know how Detritus get touchy when one get to this, than Mr. Vimes came and before we count to three the fellows were scrubbed from the walls.'

'I see.' Sighed Carrot. Stepping in front of the Commander's office he turned his face to Colon's. 'Is he still…?'

The Sergeant shacked his head. Carrot took deep breath and pressed the door-handle. The door swung open.

Commander was sitting in his chair smoking. His face was grim. Carrot stepped inside and the door swung pack on the reddish face of Sergeant's.

'Good morning, Mr. Vimes.' Saluted Carrot. 'Angua sends her greetings.'

Sam Vimes removed his boots from the desk and seated comfortably.

'Is she feeling better?'

'Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. She says thanks to Lady Sybil for the herbs. She says her back is almost cured.'

'That's good.' Added Commander putting his face in his palms. Carrot had to admit that this was too much. Mr. Vimes had a look he hadn't sleep from weeks. His cheeks were concave and his eyes were red as a tomato.

'Still not well?' asked Carrot. Vimes shook head. 'She arrives today, I presume.' Sighed Carrot. 'Do you know what my father use to say? 'Don't fear of the fear. It is only feeling'. I suggest you go back home and have a good nap. She had not to see you like that. After all don't forget who she is.'

Vimes lifted his eyes and gazed at Carrot's. The honest face of his was so calm and wrapped in thoughts. He couldn't realize sometimes what he was telling. Lately his thoughts were becoming as wise as never. Vimes admitted that there were strange things happening in your head when you were about to become a father. The child changed it all. Your life was becoming different significance.

'You are right, Captain.' Raised himself Vimes. 'I have a lot of better things to do than stay here and manage illusive stuff.'

He moved forward and patted Carrot's shoulder.

'Little Sam has a birthday party to managed. Sybil could not find the best ribbon colour for the surprise gift. I have to be more often with my family. You also. Go home and stay with Angua as more as she don't get furious.'

He lifted his helmet and walked out of the office.

'Just be there, Carrot', he directed to the stairs.

The noise coming from down made Carrot jump after Commander Vimes. There were a lot of people bursting into the reception hall. They were all frightened enough to enter voluntarily into the Watch house. There must be something really horrifying outside. Carrot followed Commander's offensive through the crowd. The screams were even louder there. The Morporkians were oddly curious people nevertheless of the situation they were pushed onto. They were ready to put themselves into a fight at the Shades just to see what happens next. Even jumping into the river to witness the sink of that strange man with concrete banded on his knees.

These people were rushing into the Watch Headquarters screaming. Carrot was wondering what made them do that. The best way was to follow his boss, while he was forcing himself through the crowd.

'What is wrong here?' he heard Commander's voice. Someone answered: 'They are coming!' The crowd rushed zigzagging loosing distance. Vimes lost his distance too. The Amazons were coming and that didn't bother him much. The panicking idiots around made him furious. His face became purple.

'Stop everyone!' he cried. The crowd turned to see the newest attraction. It slowly settled.

'I am here, Sir.' Whispered Carrot in his back.

'Have you all lost your mind? Where is your self respect, Morporkians? Bow under a bunch of women! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! Shame on you! What would your fathers say if they could see you now? What a waist of life we have here!'

'Yes, take your heads up!' understudied Carrot. 'What kind of people you are? You make me ashamed of you all.'

Carrot's face became grimmer. Soon enough the crowd dispersed heads down. Carrot had a strange influence in people's minds, especially when they all new he was right.

Vimes observed the migration. No one protested. No one said anything like: 'You copper! Get lost!'

There was no sign of Amazon invasion. There must be some idiot shouting 'Amazons!' That was enough to lay panic through the mass. There were a lot of talks in that direction lately. Even his wife had mentioned the strange information circling through the city. Amazons were becoming even frightener than ever. It all had some centred origins still unknown, but Vimes didn't hide his intention to dig deeper.

Carrot observed the mass moving in their directions. Being part of this society make you vulnerably adjusted to its prejudices and faults. But having your head on its proper place give you a key to manipulate the crowd the way you need to.

Carrot lifted his forehead giving Vimes to know he was still expecting things to go further. Commander red his mind and sighed.

'Extra patrols each fifteen minutes. Shades – ten minutes. Arrest anyone defying. They should know we manage it. If you need me I will be in the toy store.'

Carrot saluted and turned to the Watch house. Sam Vimes's steps were splashing on the wet pavement.

---

The carriage was parked in front of the Sewers guild. The problem with the threads had to be solved soon enough not to put the city into the serial panic. The Patrician went out of the main entrance with a release on his face.

Another job well done.

The coachman opened the door and jumped up on the box. The horses had to go round the cart parked in front of the carriage. The junior assassin Julius Polk fixed the rubber arrow on the crossbow and took a careful sight. The arrow hissed.

The Patrician bowed rapidly. The jab he expected transformed into a thin voice.

'Is that yours?'

He lifted his head up from the carriage window lit and fastened his eyes on the face coming closer.

It was a face wrapped up in a red transparent shawl covering everything below the big green eyes. The woman held the resisting body of he boy in one hand. The other squeezed the rubber arrow.

Lord Vetinari held his temper and mumbled: 'No, it is not mine. But I know who it belongs to.'

'Take it away from weapons. It could hurt someone.'

The woman put the boy step and moved to the carriage parked nearby. The women around it were staring at his direction. Under their veils they were smiling. The tall woman stepped in and the carriage moved on.

The boy in his sight was pale.

'I'm sorry, Your Lordship. I just had to find the best position to hit, not to really hit. It was my graduation work. I'm sorry.'

Vetinari knit his brows. Dr. Downey had been quite successful lately. He had to admit it. A welcome letter would do the work.

'You passed the exam, young man.' Smiled the Patrician. 'Please do transmit my greetings to miss Scolden.'

The junior assassin bowed and run away. He had to go home to change before presenting in the Guild school. There were some requirements about the students' underwear he had to obey.

The carriage moved forward. The other carriage passed the Contractual Bridge. As far as he could foresee its direction, Scoon Avenue had a long journey to go to.

---

Sybil Ramkin-Vimes was in the sixth month of her second pregnancy. Having young Sam both with her husband were not even hoping for a second child. Five years after the birth of their son they were surprised with an unexpected gift.

It started as a bad flue and when the faint and dizziness didn't pass, the Vimeses had to turn to a specialist. Dr. Lawn was explicit enough. They were expecting a child.

That came as a shock for both of them. Soon the entire city tongs had their names gossiped. The congratulations followed shortly.

Vimes didn't know what to say for first time in his long life. The Watch staff filled his office with baby clothes and underwear. Some wags put even Sonky packages between the complementary gifts. Vimes and Sybil laughed a full night.

Sybil received the note from the courier. Sam was coming back earlier. She had to prepare the samples. The ribbons she chose were too sissy for a boy. She needed a male verdict.

There was a knock at the door. The front door.

No one she knew were using that door. That must be some of the travelling salesmen going about the neighbourhood lately. She picked up her wallet. She needed a new toilet wash and the candles were cut down on lately. The door bell had to be changed. Oh, and the rust remover was about to finish.

She unlocked the door latch and pulled.

There was no salesman at the door. There was a woman dressed in red tunic over her red tight-fitting trousers.

'You must be Sybil.' Uttered the woman and removed the transparent veil off her face.

Sybil remembered to close her mouth. The face in front was such familiar. Where did she know it? Oh, Gods!

'Dear Yo! You must be Antonia, Sam's baby sister!' happily yelled Sybil and rapidly put her arms around the Amazon's shoulders into a tight hug. 'We were expecting you next week. Same was so expecting you! Oh, dear! Come in, come in! Don't stay at the door!'

She draw her by the fist and closed the door behind her. The nearest room was the Yellow Echoing Hall. She pulled her into it and settled the woman in the large pompous armchair.

'Sam would be in raptures over to see you. Just wait. He will be any minute. I just had a note from his that he was coming home earlier today. Do you know – young Sam has a birthday the day after tomorrow? We organized a small surprise party, but the ribbons for the surprise gift are our worst problem. Each year we fight for the colour and at the end the boy just wear it out.'

'I am so glad I came in time to attend the party.' smiled Antonia. She had a tired face and Sybil had a natural sense of that. She moved the small yellow stool and put the lady's feet on it.

She didn't protest. Just stared at her for a moment and let herself relax.

'I am so sorry for been such inhospitable. You might have been travelling for that long not to see an old woman like me hover about. Just feel yourself as comfortable as you are at home.'

The Amazon smiled and yawned.

'Excuse my temper. It was a tough journey.'

'I see. You must have gone through the Sto Lat lowlands. It is always so tiresome while travelling through the flat. Especially if your origin is the mountain.'

'I could not express myself better than the way you did', smiled the lady and leaned back into the comfy armchair.'

'Unfortunately I had no time to shop for my nephew's celebration', she sighed.

'It is not necessary to present him anything', protested Sybil. 'He would be happy enough to meet a family member he hadn't seen so far. He is, as you will soon see, a very impressionable boy.'

The Amazon smiled back. She yawned again.

'It doesn't excuse my lack of respect. Maybe I could present him something not that luxury.'

'What is luxury for the boy?' giggled Sybil. 'A wagon made by his father's hands. That is luxury for my Sam. Especially when he has no much time to spend with his family. Even lately, unfortunately.'

She downed her eyes. Than looked her carefully and took her hand in hers. Her voice became more moving and tender. Her eyes penetrated into hers.

'Since he received your letter he has no peace. You shocked him a lot, my dear. It looks like his mother spared a lot from him. He might be a little bit… hard… when he sees you but you have to wait, dear. Deep inside he is the most loving brother you could ever have.'

'It seems the only one I have, Sybil.' sighed Antonia.

She was not expecting to come to Sam Vimes' house in the first place. She didn't even plan to meet him here. She thought better to go to the Embassy first and later on to walk to the Watch house. He might be surprised but not as much as seen her here with his own wife.

She turned her attention to the way Sybil talked. She had been investigating a lot about them both. She was a remarkable woman. There was no trouble in finding information about her. It seems that everyone used to know the Duchess of Ankh. Sam was the problem Two years after her mother's death she knew as much as she used to in the beginning. He was a mystery. A man that seems to be wrapped in obscurity.

There was a noise coming from the entrance-hall. Sybil raised her head and cried:

'Come in here, Sam. I have to introduce you to someone.'

The Amazon stood up suddenly, expecting to see…

The boy entered the Hall. It was slim tall child with a fixed gaze that made all adults shimmer in cold. His bushy hair was combed aside. He had a wooden sling in his hand.

'Who are you?' Posed the boy at the front. 'I don't know you.'

Sybil planed his blouse: 'This is you aunt, dear. Be polite and introduce yourself.'

The boy studied her face for a moment, than stretched his hand and shook hers.

'Nice to see you at last, Your Grace.' Bowed little Sam. 'It is my pleasure to face the fearless Red Tulip.'

The Amazon squeezed her eyes. The boy was only five years old. He couldn't know that kind of things unless its parents…

'Sam!' squealed Sybil and waved her finger.

'It is all right.' Protested Antonia and turned back to the boy. 'The pleasure is all mine, dear Sir.'

She pressed her palms together and bowed her head to them. The boy imitated the gesture and laughed.

'You are a real gentleman, Mr. Vimes.' Smiled back the Amazon. 'There will be a time when you have to chose profession. Please do listen my advise. Go to the politics. You have a gift.'

The boy pressed his lips on her hand. Than giggled and run away from the Hall.

'Such remarkable son you have, Sybil!' Antonia stared at the entrance the boy disappeared into.

'Yes, he is so after his father. Such a gift for both of us. Sam and I were not even hoping we would be blessed with a child. When he was born I narrowly died. Now we are expecting our second. This time we hope it would be a girl. Sam desperately needs someone to hug.'

'Oh, you are pregnant! Such a blessing!'

The Amazon jumped up from her seat and took Sybil's arm, kneeling.

'In Quart we have a custom to present the pregnant woman with a gift by a mother. I am technically childless but am privileged to have a child adopted. So I am a mother after all.'

She thrust her hand into her bosom and draw out an emerald necklace she put in Sybil's hand.

'It is approved as a good manner to except the gift nevertheless of its value.'

Sybil was in shock. The necklace looked so expensive. It was obvious the lady in front her had it from generations. The inlaid work was extremely precise, the emeralds were polished and well-kept nevertheless they had passed in the bygone years. It was too expensive gift even for the richest woman in Ankh-Morpork.

'I couldn't…' she started but the Amazon stared at her.

Sybil knew a part of the story wrap in that woman's life. She had to read a lot lately about the Quart newest history, where the name of the Red Tulip had a grate influence. Been an Amazon's head war leader was something that couldn't be omitted like that.

One she heard made her muse: They said the Red Tulip's eyes could spear you all along. She thought it was a sheer nonsense. How could someone make grown men shiver like that? It was probably a translation error.

Now she had to admit her mistake. The gaze made her wish she was somewhere else. The woman was definitely a Stoneface Vimes' desandent.

Sybil lifted her shoulders and let her put the necklace on.

The steps aside made her get up.

'Sybil, there is a carriage in front of the gate. Do we have… guests…'

Sam Vimes froze at the door.

---

Dr. Downey had a hard meeting. The couple in black puzzled him. The man was unknown; nevertheless he knew most of the assassins between Klach and Lancre. He had a military posture and a face that could burn one's intestines.

The woman on the other hand was a mystery. The veil over her head was too thick to see through. She was sitting in her chair calmly, but the way the man was turning his eyes to her direction showed her significance in the matter they were here about.

They had a contract to launch.

Dr. Downey as a Head assassin had to become calm. It was important his clients to know that their matters would be kept in secret. He had to admit that this one was not the easiest job he was accustomed to, but the money were good enough to call for Sir Andrew Pie.

It was usual for the noblemen to become some of the best assassins of the Guild. They had free access to places forbidden for the ordinary peasants. The manners they had, made most of them a preferable company in any game. They were fine lovers and were opulent enough to arrange the top ten seamstresses in the city. An excellent information source for Who is Who in Ankh-Morpork.

Sir Andrew was a respectable man at the end of his forties. He had a huge fortune by himself – big enough to feel lazy till the end of his life. His late wife let him her even bigger fortune that made him a preferable marriage party.

The thing people didn't know was that Sir Andrew's little secret was named Jessica. She was his wife's sister oldest daughter, newly married and her uncle's soft spot. It is not accustomed to be in love with your own niece.

What other people didn't know was familiar for two people in the city. The first was the Patrician. It was impossible to keep a secret from him. The second one was Old Pete. He was a beggar with a talent and apparently in depth with Dr. Downey.

'I have a job for you, Andrew.' Glanced Dr. Downey when the assassin moved from the darkness into the study. 'I thought you were the best for this specific task, so I hope you would enjoy my efforts to make your career up.'

'Thank you for that, Septimus', added Sir Andrew, fixing his eyes on the paper in Downey's hands. 'What is the job?'

The head assassin handed him the list. The aristocrat red tiny handwriting and moved his astound eyes up.

'That is…'

'Indeed.'

'The task is quite…'

'I also think so.'

'That would move my career so up that I…'

'You don't have to thank me now. Soon enough you would have that chance.'

'Well, the risk is huge but the prise…'

'Five hundred thousand dollars. At least half of them.'

The assassin put his eyes on the note again. That couldn't be true. It was as a gift from Gods. A birthday present without a birthday to come.

He fixed his gaze on Dr. Downey's. He wasn't smiling, was he? He was just his employer. If he wanted to make a trap that wouldn't be in such manner.

It was well known that Sir Andrew was the best assassin during the last six years. It might have brought him a name of a killing person No 1, but mostly it brought a popularity as dangerous as a night in the Shades. With no knife in your pocket.

Downey's face was so clear and soft. He had a detachment of the man's best friend in action. The smile on his face made him look inoffensive and friendly.

Sir Andrew was not a wise man but he could read people's faces. The face in front was innocent and charming.

'Is there a dead line to the job?' he put the list in his waistcoat pocket.

'Two weeks and not a day more.' Answered Downey.

'Than…' thoughtfully rose the assassin. 'It is Saturday 2nd, two weeks is at Saturday 15th.'

He moved around the chair he was settled in, than suddenly break off and glanced at Dr. Downey's.

'That is the Wedding day!'

'Yes, I was informed already.'

The Head assassin seated back.

The stare didn't help. Sir Andrew had been very successful lately, his job had the best evaluations in the Guild's gatherings. But he was an honest and sentimental man. He now realised he was given with this job to test his perceptions. He had to chose – either to do the job the best way he was trained to, or to quit right now.

The consequences of the first would make him welcome the insomnia he cured so hard. When his wife was alive he rarely even work. She made him promise, because she knew he had a heart, unlike his fellows assassins. If the job involved some specific character he preferred to refuse, it wasn't taken at al. Her death put him into a deep depression he cured by the only medicine he could find – working.

The second could make worse. The shell of unimpeachability would crack as an egg. He couldn't let it happen. It was not fair.

He swallowed with difficulty and moved forward.

'I take the job.'

Dr. Downey smiled satisfactorily and followed him exiting the study.

Having Sir Andrew into this task would bring him success in both scenarios he planned. If he succeeds it would be fine because he could present it at the Guild's next meeting as a result of his own good management. In case of failure Downey would be fine again, because he really hated that man.

The Guild's trustees had to admit that there are tasks to fall after all. If the best of the best was not able to do the job than who could? The dispute would last long enough for Downey to prepare the next inanity to put their minds on. And who would they elevate at the following elections was out of question.

Both scenarios were good. Best to be the second but who knows? Anything could go wrong.

Downey rang the bell on his desk. The secretary entered rapidly.

'Yes, Sir?', sounded the tired voice of the young clerk.

'Let Mr. Sprat I would like to see him in twenty minutes', commanded Downey. The young man fixed his glasses and flashed a bitter smile. When the door was shut Dr. Downey put his face in his hands.

There is a time for action and a time for indolence. Now was the perfect time for both of them.

---

The Ambassador of Quart was a lady advanced with years. She didn't want to come to Ankh-Morpork. Being a cousin of the queen was not the best thing for a woman that dreams for her peach garden only. What happened was not a secret. The queen, a lady with a short temper had had a bad week. In this case all had annoyed her and there was just a matter of time to find her next victim. The family was not exception.

Lady Astral had an unspecified medical problem that had to keep her in bed for many hours. That was not the best position as an Ambassador, but being one of Quart was an exception of the rule. At least Quart didn't have more than two hundred members of the state situated in Ankh-Morpork.

The highest of the Quart's export was the know-how. Amazons were the best engineers and most sophisticated warriors. There were more generals from an Amazon origin in the belligerents on the Disc than in Quart. The best merchandise Quart had was the gold ore the Amazon dwarfs were mining from the West and Southwest part of the Grumble mountain chains. The gold made the Amazon territories palatable for invasion. The war history of Quart was lost in the past. When even the Morporkians were just establishing their small village, the Amazons were in their barracks deciding in the course of action against their ancient enemy. Smaiil.

Lady Astral was still young when her cousin, the Queen, established the first committee for peace with Smaiil. There were a lot of attempts in that direction, but all of them unsuccessful. She had the idea how to make a successful try to end the perpetual conflict, but been a _cousin_ made her voice even noiseless.

Having the diplomatic letter in her hand she smiled. She red it so many times and knew each word. It had her plan done. The voice was listened, even from direction too far.

The servant entered and bowed.

'Let them in', ordered Lady Astral.

The girl obeyed. In a few seconds the bunch of red dressed lady soldiers burst into the parlour.

'Welcome, daughters of Sheeba!' she yelled. 'Who of you appears to be Lady Antonia?'

One of the ladies made a step out, removed her veil and bowed:

'Mother is staying outside of Quart Embassy tonight.'

'Where exactly, young Bettina de Constar? As far as I know your mother has no where to go except…'

'Indeed.' Smiled Bettina. 'She's been invited to stay at her brother's home. I am also. As soon as I convey my mother's greeting I should present myself in Scoon Avenue.'

The old woman sighed and burst her eyes. She had a chance in meeting the Tulip seven years ago. It was a formal meeting with foolish conversation that give nothing but disinformation about the people you just met. As far as she knew, Lady Antonia used to have a unique approach with people. And she knew she was seeking for her late father's son.

She had at least twelve sources pointing to Sir Samuel Vimes as a potential brother. She wrote the detective lady Antonia had hired to do her the job. She was expecting a polite conversation and a couple of visiting into the Vimes-Ramkin mansion. But staying there? With His Grace as a host?

She must have misjudged Lady Antonia's way of management.

'Well, I am happy your mother is having a reunion. Please send her back my regards. I will see her tomorrow morning. We have a wedding to arrange.'

Bettina bowed again and moved back. The other women followed her. The Red Tulip's guardswomen were well known for their specific skills and especially for their extraordinary loyalty to their mistress.

Lady Astral sighed deeply and moved back to her comfy armchair. They have so many things to do. The couple of weeks would pass as a flash.

---

1 It has always been hard to tell what happens when Gods interrupt into people's lives. The Amazons look the ones experienced enough to become a thorn in the Disc's flesh. It is not easy to be God's best manipulative bitch.

28


	2. Chapter 2

There was something strange in the sky that morning. Lord Vetinari contemplated the sun rise diffracting its sunbeams over the dark blue clouds, floating on the still black sky-high. There was some magic in the moments when the day meets the night. You know who is going to win, but still hope to see something different.

Lord Havelock Vetinari was a man with some specified expectations. He disliked the surprises, but had a good management in surprising people. That was one of his best talents. He had an open mind and a poetic spirit, although no one could call him a poet. No one could dare to. Calling the Patrician something else than 'Manipulative bustard' was not common. The city needed its dictator and Vetinari was it.

Actually there is no person in the world that could agree calling him a dictator. There are a lot of things people could do to decline the term. They would rather let anyone call them 'bustard', 'hypocrite' or even 'crook with power', but 'dictator' was too much. It had a mental status of someone with no heart and even soul, someone who could sacrifice his own family for a better purpose.

Vetinari was a man without a family, so he could accept any term naming his political and social status. After the death of the last member of the Vetinari clan, his mother's sister, Madam Roberta Meserole, some years earlier, he finally understood something very important – he was left alone. He had no one to share his fears and hopes. He had no kindred spirit nearby. When he first heard his aunt was dead, he fell into a deep depression for a couple of hours. Thank Gods it didn't last longer. The city needed its ruler. It does every day, every hour, every second…

The sun burst unto the Oblong Office. The door opened slowly and the Drumknott's head invaded, seeking for his master.

'Good morning, sir' greeted he quietly. 'Would you like a cup of tea before the first reports?'

Vetinari turned to his direction.

'Yes, thank you. Hershebian yellow would do the job.'

Drumknott obeyed and disappeared. In few seconds the door opened again letting him enter with a silver tray in one hand and a pile of papers in the other. He put the tray and the papers on the tea table near the window Vetinari was still standing by and moved back.

'The first meeting is at eight, sir. Commander Vimes is waiting already.'

The Patrician bend his head and stared the first file above. He knit his eyebrows.

'Is he alone?'

Drumknott convulsed: 'He is with a lady, sir.'

Vetinari pursed his lips and sat by the tea table, lifting the tea pot.

'Let them in fifteen minutes.'

The head clerk obeyed and closed the door behind him. Vetinari smiled at himself. So, the reports were true. Vimes had really gathered with his 'sister'. What would happen next?

He sipped his tea with satisfaction. Than took the upper file and opened it. He red.

'…_some strategic measures, taken by the queen of Quart five weeks ago. The senate agreed to co-operate with the wedding and not to expel the bride from the Amazon society__1__…_

…_The Lady will have the full rights to return into the mother-country if necessary. There is one provision she have to follow: in case of childbirth from the individual she falls into a matrimonial status, she should choose: either stay with her husband and desist of her high statute, or leave him and the child__2__. In this case she will be recovered as a full member of the Amazons and return to her high military rang…'_

Dear Gods! What did she do to deserve such punishment! What was her crime against the Amazon civilization to be forced to that all?

Vetinari lost in his thoughts. He moved from one theory to another, searching through the papers arranged on his desk. There must be some explanation of it all. The tough measures should have their logical interpretation. What was the queen of Quart thinking after taking that decision? What would have happen if 'the bride' had said 'No'?

Was that only for reason of policy, or was just the old woman's whim?

Actually the Patrician never had the chance to meet Queen Balmola but had heard a lot of the old bat. A woman with power and lack of prejudice. Had a grown daughter, fated with a weak body and spirit. The woman had faced her destiny: either leaving the throne to her ailing child, quite easy controllable and weak, or to pick an heir by herself. Someone who could control the Senate and the people. Someone like… Lady Antonia. The Red Tulip…

Vetinari sank in his chair and smiled. It was not that hard after all. As his late aunt used to say: 'Just put yourself in their shoes.'

The clock outside the Oblong Office beat eight times. Vetinari raised his voice:

'Enter!'

The door opened, letting two people through. They seated in the chairs they were shown. Vetinari finally raised his eyes from the documents in his desktop. He cast a glance at the Commander and the woman he seated by. She loosed the veil over her face and let it fall. Vetinari had to keep a self-control facing the fairest woman he had ever seen.

He cleared his throat and stood up bowing in her direction.

'Welcome to Ankh-Morpork, Your Grace! Nice to see you finally after hearing so many interesting things about you.'

She smiled delicately and bowed back.

'I was shore you would tell something like that' she said waiving him to sit back. 'I could tell it also. It is my pleasure to meet the man causing me so many problems lately.'

'Excuse me?' leaned he in her direction.

'I think I should explain.' She smiled rapidly. 'The crossbows your city is so famous with had been imported in Quart. Big mistake, of course, facing the national arm industry we are even more famous. It is obvious that our arm dealers prefer the foreign merchandise lately. We had to put a veto over some particular goods imported from Ankh-Morpork. But the smugglers had the arrogance to transport their purchases from the neighbouring countries. Smaiil is one of them. The Decree you personally signed two years ago adding Smaiil in the list of the most favoured nations, made following and detecting of the strait trade more than impossible. We had to change our detection system on the borders, which cost a lot of nerves and money to the clean-fingered merchants.'

Vetinari leaned back in his chair with a covered satisfaction. He had been expecting it for a while. The day he signed the Decree he expected a small but angry Quart delegation, calling his deed a stupid step into the continuation of the endless conflict between Smaiil and Quart. He was quite disappointed when it didn't happen.

'I do apologise if my specific measures in some directions caused so much for your country. I hope it did not have negative consequences.'

The Amazon was staring at him. Her green eyes made him feel uncomfortable. That was… refreshing. No one dared putting his eyes on his for such long time. No one dared looking at his face even. She was the first one whose look didn't bite the dust of his own blue stare. He was intrigued.

'You are excused.' Answered the Amazon, still staring at him. 'Don't do that again.'

He smiled, than she smiled back, both satisfied and still not putting attention on Vimes' presence.

'Uhum!' Vimes cleared his throat. 'What were we here for?'

The Lady turned her eyes to him and smiled.

'I am sorry, Sam. You are right of course.'

She pressed her lips to his cheek. Vimes smiled and blushed. They were in Vetinari's presence, after all. He put his hand over hers and looked ahead.

'My sister asked me if I could direct her to an arm merchant in Ankh-Morpork.'

'So?' sighed Vetinari staring at them both.

'She had an idea to present some of the Quart's best arm products in a specialized arm fair, which could be held in the city.'

Lady Antonia rose from her chair and moved to the large window.

'My idea was to present the Quart's best merchandise. Beginning with the arms, of course, they are fixed as the sun. Following by the architecture and the engineering. Literature and music would come later. Admit it as Quart's… culture week.'

Vetinari had to move his chair to follow her walking through the room. Vimes too. Looking at Sir Samuel, he could tell he had changed the last couple of days. His calmness and self-control had returned. The discomfort he calmly used to share with the world had disappeared. Facing the reality, it was obvious he was having fun. Even Sybil had to admit it. Her husband turned to a stranger.

Vetinari was carefully listening what the Amazon was continuing to tell. He was famous with it. He could listen for hours without saying any word. He was listening not only what was said, but mostly what was hidden behind the lines. It was not an easy job, but being a Patrician for more than fourteen years had some positives. Especially if you are roundabout with power-greedy fools.

The woman finally sat back in her chair and stared at his direction. He leaned back in his own uncomfortable chair and put his chin in his palm.

'The idea is not bad. I admit it. If you do with the organization I would not oppose.'

'Thank you.' Said the Amazon and moved nearer. 'That was a big gesture of yours which I will not forget.'

'I hope I will be invited onto the wedding.' presumed Vetinari and stared at the woman. She stared back.

'Of course.' She smiled bitterly. 'My brother even had a strange idea to…'

'No, Antonia!' protested Vimes. The Patrician was intrigued.

'Idea of what?'

'Nothing, nothing! Just a joke! Don't mention it.'

'You have piqued my curiosity, Sir Samuel.'

'Just a joke, as I was saying.' Insisted Vimes.

'I really want to know what a joke it was so common with me.' The Patrician fixed his eyes into Vimes'. The Commander swallowed hardly and turned at his sister's direction. His look was saying: 'Stupid! Stupid! Look what you make me do!'

'I just mentioned that… the wedding is going to be the best attraction… ever seen in the city. Meaning – the gathering of… two belligerent enemies. A political act that has to become… the most important thing we have to face to. And… I was just suggesting… that… there is no best man… and… I was JUST joking – it would be wise to offer YOU the job… Of course… this is not what is going to happen, because that _can not_ happen.'

He looked at the Patrician's face. He was expecting to see him angry and disappointed. Even vindictive.

Vetinari was smiling. He knew the man for years. He knew everything he had experienced. Ever. But it looks that Vimes was the one who had no idea who he was looking at.

Vetinari stared them both for a while. His smile disappeared letting his bitter glare rise. He downed his head, showing virtually his thoughts jumping from one direction to another. Than he sighed discontentedly and uttered:

'This came too fast, I agree. I don't think I would… '

'Wonderful!' smiled the Amazon and lightly stand up looking at Vimes. 'I also thought it would be too much.'

'I beg you pardon?' scowled Vetinari. His stare passed the Commander's frightened eyes and pierced into the woman.

'It is obvious', continued Lady Antonia. 'You are not the worst choice I could have for a supporting husband, but...'

She was obviously bored. It was seen in her eyes and mostly in the poses she had to take while she was in the presence of him in this awfully arranged office.

'I know the traditions.' She bend in his direction. 'If something happens to my…' she swallowed hardly, 'husband, than the best man has to take his place. Awful tradition, indeed. I just have to pity that man. He doesn't know what he is dealing with.'

She moved angrily through the room. 'If I really have to _obey_ the orders I was given and to _marry_ that stupid MAN, a smaiilian snake with no honour to commit suicide after loosing most of his army in the Brava River Valley… Gods! Unfair world we live in, gentlemen… Worse than anything else in the past we've been through. If I would have been told that I had to marry a smaiilian in a political contract that ties down my country to our worst enemy for ever, than I would have killed the person by myself. This is an insult for my military spirit. I guess my ancestors are turning round in their graves…'

She moved to the window. Her face was pale. Her eyes were still mighty, but there was something else in them now. She stayed there for a couple of seconds, than turned to them. She had a bitter but kind and excusive smile.

'But whatever happens. I have already agreed this ridiculous contract and I have to face the reality. Excuse me, sir... But I have to go.'

She bowed slightly and moved to the door, Vimes following.

'I'm sorry, sir.' He sighed before exiting. 'This is not easy for her.'

Vetinari presented him with a quick smile and was left alone. He settled in his chair and gathered his palms in front of his lips. He had to revise all that happened the past ten minutes. He never had the chance to meet a real Amazon, but there are things more valued than life itself. For the woman that just left it was her freedom. Forcing her into a matrimonial contract was the worst idea someone had to have in mind. It was obvious what would happen. Lady Antonia would never had to choose either going back to her mother-land after the expiry of the negotiated five years, or to stay somewhere with… a man. That would be the shortest marriage ever.

He smiled. The memory her face recalled in his mind made him feel odd. She was the most mysterious woman he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of people in his life.

The way she wasn't embarrassed by his presence while having everything in the shop window, made him wandering. He was shocked by the words she had said. '…Smaiilian snake with no honour to commit suicide after loosing most of his army…' That was quite bizarre.

---

Lady Astral had the audacity inviting some of the best beautifiers in Ankh-Morpork. One of them was Mrs. Brooks. She was apparently the best tailor a lucrecious woman could hire. She was famous with her wedding gowns and had a little fortune by those loving mothers that wanted their daughter be the prettiest one on her wedding. Her fee was astronomical, but her clients were even more satisfied. Mrs. Brooks had golden needles.

The fact was that Mrs. Brooks was leading the Tailor opposition in the Sewing Guild. She had three grown daughters, all of them happily married, and they were all derived their mother's success. The Sewing Guild had been instigated lately by the urge of the Brookses to lead the Guild's affairs. Dr. Sparse, the Guild's Deputy-President had to face the edge of his patience. The Brookses were too powerful opposition. There were only few months to the elections. He had the bad feeling he would not win.

Mrs. Brooks was a fat short woman with a large face and little delicate fingers. Her small eyes were dust grey, very inquisitive and opposing her short temper. Nevertheless of her fat heavy body, she was quite active. Looking at her, everyone had the same question: 'How did her feet bear that load?'

The old woman rounded Lady Antonia. She already had some ideas for the best wedding dress, but they were murdered in time by the temper of the Amazon. She was quite divided. She could tell what she wanted but was scared of the situation she would have fallen facing the woman in front of her. After all she had heard who she was.

'A tiny ribbon here would be…'

The following eyes of the Amazon were particularly disagreeing.

'Maybe a diamond button could be placed…'

That was not easy. Mrs. Brooks had been facing a lot of clients in her practice but this one was too… hard to deal with.

'The corset is important.' She had turned to Lady Astral, sitting in her armchair nearby. 'The weakness of the dress you have chosen is in the top. It had to be firmed; I still think we need to put some lace on it. It is too… empty up there. And the ribbons would do a good job.'

'No ribbons!' commanded the young Amazon.

'All right, all right! No ribbons. But there must be _something_. Pearls, lace, purl, silk flowers… _Anything_ feminine. This is like… a uniform. It has nothing to look at. This is ridiculous!'

The old woman sighed deeply. 'I am here to make you the best bride seen in the Om's temple. What am I here for if I could not do my job!'

'You are here because you are paid five hundred dollars.' Answered the Ambassador of Quart while sipping her refreshing afternoon tea. Mrs. Brooks stared at her for a second and sighed again. She was right. After all it was just a dress. And money was the most important part of it.

She obeyed and put some more pins in the fabric.

She was astonished by the situation she was in. The brides should be jumping in happiness putting themselves in their wedding gowns for first time. This one was not. She looked like she was just accepting the fact that she has to put this dress on and do some job. She was not having fun at all. Just obeying and making her job the worst ever.

And the colour she chose. Red as blood. What kind of a woman would choose it for her wedding gown?

The only liberty the tailor woman had was the tiny emerald string sewed on the dress top. It was very thin and outlined a small tulip on young lady's left chest. Like a small cote of arms, showing her appurtenance. That was not a decoration. That was a female epaulet.

The skirt was long and sheer. The Lady wanted it precisely that way. There must be some invisible openings, she was told, for ventilation, although Mrs. Brooks had some ideas what would be put underneath. The Amazon's sword put aside had its reduced copy. It was small enough to be shoved anywhere, especially under that fountain of veils she sewed for that ungrateful virgin.

'Quite tiring, isn't it?' Added Lady Astral when Mrs. Brooks had left in a hurry. Lady Antonia said nothing.

'Next!' commanded the Ambassador and moved back into her cosy armchair.

The servant obeyed, letting the hairdressers in.

---

Lord Stephen had not faced the Amazon yet, but he had put her and her retinue under surveillance. After all she was his enemy nevertheless she was to become his wife.

He knew a lot of her now. She was an enigma. A lady with such high military rang put in situation like this… He pitied her as he pitied himself. Two people forced to become the closest partners… Hating each other and still obeying the situation…

That was more than unusual.

His agents informed him for all her actions. He knew already about her brother's ridiculous proposal to Lord Vetinari. He laughed for a couple of minutes, an entertaining job for his friends, Sir Thodeas and Madam Sarah.

Actually, he didn't laugh that much. Soon after meeting Lord Vetinari, he used to spend a lot of time with him lately. This man puzzled him with his sober mind and spirit. He even had the audacity to believe in his friendship, however strange it looks. Being Lord Vetinari's best friend was more than illusion. It was a lie he forced himself to believe in. He needed it. He had a proposal to make.

Being in Ankh-Morpork, knowing no one to trust enough and forced to pick a friend to stay near you when you need a strong hand, was not easy. Sir Thodeas was a good friend, he knew, but he was too weak to sustain his complex character in time of this kind of stress. In moments of facing his own imperfection, Lord Stephen needed a strong hand. He knew he had to pick another person in a world he never knew. The nearest one was the mysterious man he was introduced to not that long ago. The time he spent with him made him believe he would do him a good favour to support his execrable character. After all he did no show his disagreement in all of those times he had given his taste of his ill-nature.

When the answer came, he was astonished. He never had the faith that he would agree, but it was a fact. The question Lord Stephen had in his mind was: 'What made him assent to my request? There must be some major plan in his mind. There must be something…'

The news scattered throughout the city as a flake. There were rumours, laugh, even horseplay. People had never faced a reality where the Patrician was put in such human role as the Best Man. That position was not for him. He could be the evil twin brother hidden behind the curtains, even the mad dictator playing with his servant's lives, observing his own larky plan in action. But the Best man… That was too much.

The newspaper printed a cartoon of them both on its pages. It was silly joke, quite widespread throughout, putting them all under the veil of misinformation and misunderstanding.

While the wedding was on the door, the groom had a lot of things to do. He didn't have the chance to meet his bride. The city of Ankh-Morpork appeared to be too large. He heard of her tender beauty and was quite intrigued of it. He even knew of her evening practice in the Vimes-Ramkin's inner courtyard. His agents added in their reports she was introduced with the latest battle techniques. Quite fascinating.

There was a tradition in the Smaiil's wedding ritual that Lord Stephen was forced to follow. Being a part of a society where the relatives chose you future wife was not easy. The put-up matrimony was quite usual in Smaiil. Most of the times the couple even had no idea of the partner they had to marry to. They had to meet for first time on their own wedding day.

Lord Stephen was a well-mannered man, a gentleman and a nobleman. He knew that some day he had to marry a stranger. He was grown with this fact and he admitted it.

Well, he had a lot of mistresses, giving him some sort of education he could not find anywhere else. He was known as a good lover, quite familiar with what women want. He knew he could manage with any woman. But this one…

He had the feeling he would fail. There were rumours he could not omit. She was an Amazon after all. And she was forced to marry. That was quite unusual, facing the history of that vicious tribe his army made wage war against.

Lord Stephen had to face the facts. She was just like him. His own female copy. A woman with a particular strength of spirit and body. He had to be patient. Someday she would subside. Maybe… Just Be Patient…

Time brings us all patience and calmness. It has unusual influence over people. Especially those facing their own destiny they are familiar with already.

1 It is common for the Amazons never to marry officially. To fall in love with a man and give herself up was o.k. Many Amazons had children from foreigners. It was usual and even encouraged by the Senate. There must be a way to cultivate the population of the state after all. The old kidnapping technique was forgotten thousand years ago.

2 Leaving a child with the father was a situation the Amazon was forced only in one condition: if the child was a male. In this situation the terms were too cruel.


	3. Chapter 3

The Palace of Ankh-Morpork was a good place for a pre-wedding party two days before the ceremony. It had big halls with space enough for all the dances the city nobility expected to fill these days.

The fact was that Lord Vetinari, the current ruler of the city was not an entertainment man. His idea for a good fun was sitting in the large Palace garden, reading his music lists. Everyone that knew some part of him, used to say it was a bizarre thing to do. How could you just stare at signs you haven't ever heard and have… fun?

As a Patrician, Lord Vetinari had the bounded duty to entertain his loyal citizens. Once a year he reopened the Large Ball Room, locked for the rest of the time. It was a gesture for all of those little bustards, which used to make his life a little bit funnier. After all he had to return the favour. Most of the time he sat at the edge of the large hall, where his little chair was put. He had a lot of fun, observing them trying not to put any attention at him.

At the beginning of his rule they tried to do the opposite, but soon they found out it was a dangerous strategy to become his best friends.

His Lordship was whole-hogger, a true politician with no partiality. His mission was not based on the human contact. It was based on the fear he provoked in his subjects. They had to be very cautious while contacting with him. He had the extraordinary talent to see what they wanted to remain hidden.

In his role of a Best Man he had the duty to present the best interests of the couple to marry in two days time. He knew them both – some better, some not that good. As a man with influence he had to show the rest of the world that the couple should be recognised as such even if those both didn't have the wish to do so.

The Large Ball Room was cleaned and polished. It glittered with its green marble floor and the huge crystal chandeliers, the ancient sculptures by the walls and mainly, with the magnificent echo it had. Lord Vetinari had to stay by the entrance to welcome the guests. It was not common with him, but as a Best Man, he had to do it, nevertheless how nonsensical it looked. Lord Stephen was by his side. He was smiling like a boy, given with a playful toy. He was more than proud. Standing by the site of the most powerful man on the Disc was a flattery for a middle nobleman like him. After all it was a flattery for everyone in his position.

The hall filled up quickly. There was no person with stated position not wanting to be here. That was the year's biggest event. Everyone wanted to see the noble couple gathered for first time. The rumours stated their common hatred. There must be something to tell to their grandchildren after all.

The carriages moved by and moved away fast. The richest people in Ankh-Morpork were gathered already, but there were still a lot of people outside. The Large Ball Hall had to be expanded to give place to all of them.

'Quite tiresome, isn't it?'

Lord Stephen turned his bewildered eyes to Lord Vetinari's. It was obvious he was not common with that all.

'So many people' he said. 'I've never expected to see so many people.'

'Get used to it' consulted the Patrician. 'You have to face even more on the wedding.'

'Do you think so?'

'Yes. I do.' Vetinari lit his eyebrows. 'As far as I know most of the royals of the Disc had confirmed their presence. According to my experience they would bring their retinues, and they are not small in counting.'

He pointed around. 'Here are one third of the people you have to face in two days time. As far as I know you will be the greatest attraction of the century.'

'For God's sake!' cursed Lord Stephen. 'I didn't know it would be that widespread. I thought it would be a small ceremony. I hoped it would be…'

'Poor boy!' sighed Vetinari. 'You didn't even have an idea how wrong you were.'

The smaiilian had a deep sigh. He bend his head. It was too much for that military man, faced the reality of been someone in a city where someone is rare position. It was hard. Very hard.

'I heard that the King will be here tomorrow' Vetinari turned his head aside. 'What a pleasure, isn't it? The ruler of you country to come to your wedding.'

'I wish I could say I was happy' answered Lord Stephen.

'I do understand you, Milord. As I have heard Her Majesty Queen Balmola would arrive tomorrow too.'

'What a coincidence, isn't it?'

'I am a man who doesn't believe in coincidences, my boy. The one who does is either stupid or… a dead man.'

The younger man grinned and sighed again.

'If I ever knew it would happen this way, I would never agree that stupid contract.'

Lord Vetinari smiled in a brief.

'I've heard these words before.'

'You had another man to face his unhappy destiny lately?'

'Well, I could say I did, but these things happen to me often than you think.' Vetinari put his hand over his shoulder. 'I was talking about the words you just said.'

'Someone with the same destiny? I couldn't believe. I thought I am the one that have to face this.'

'Not at all, my boy' Lord Stephen glanced at him. 'I have met a person that shares your aversion to step into a matrimonial contract the same way you do.'

'You have intrigued me, Havelock. Who?'

Vetinari turned to other direction and squeezed his eyes.

'Your future wife.'

The smaiilian stared. He stared him for long time.

'Oh, yes…You have met Lady Antonia de Constar'

'Yes, I did.'

'And she… told you that? These words exactly?'

'Her words were very close to yours. She said she would have killed the person telling her she was supposed to marry… uhum… 'a smaiilian snake with no honour to commit suicide after loosing most of his army in the Brava River Valley…'

Lord Stephen split his sides with laughter. He laughed so long and loud, becoming everyone's attention. Soon his eyes watered and he coughed, losing breath. When his hysteria passed away, he turned his tearing look at the Patrician and stepped nearer:

'Did she really say so?'

His Lordship bowed.

'I am afraid she did. I hope it doesn't make you feel like a smaiilian snake, as she stated in no uncertain terms.'

'No, I don't.' he added, sighing. 'It is true that the Brava campaign was not the best I have had, but after all I have returned to Smaiil with some kind of satisfaction.'

He moved closer. 'I didn't now she was there. I've heard some grate military leader was on the other side, but I was shore it was someone with bigger experience, I mean someone… older.'

'I believe Lady Antonia is quite young and still have the authority of a general with enviable martial spirit.'

'I've never said anything opposite.' Spew out the smaiilian. 'I just had the idea she was too young than, by the Brava river. 'If I am not wrong it had been seven years ago.' He bend his head. 'How old she was there? Twenty? Twenty five?'

His Lordship mused for a while.

'I believe it is not gentlemanly guessing how a lady is rich with years.'

'I do follow the principal, but I am still curious…'

The smaiilian turned his astonished look at the Patrician's face. It was gazing somewhere else. It had some depth in it. Lord Stephen followed his look and faced the group just entering the Large Ball Hall.

It was led by His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes and his wife Lady Sybil. It was obvious His Grace the Duke of Ankh was not having fun. It was well known that he terribly disliked the social gatherings of the highest class. Being raced and bred on the streets of the poorest part of the city makes you tough enough to have your own opinion. What the wealthy men disliked most. Having a specific mind on the things make you vulnerable and weak. Weakness was not acceptable among some specific circles.

Nevertheless he was fighting against those circles; Vimes had to admit furtively that he was a part of them. Not wanting, but being, doesn't change the subject.

Lady Sybil, the Duchess of Ankh was smiling with encouragement at him. She was nice looking middle aged woman in her advanced stage of pregnancy. It was obvious who had the control over the situation. Her fingers were dig into his fore-arm.

'Nice to see you, Your Grace', greeted Sir Samuel, after presenting them both. 'As far as I know we are about to become brothers in law.'

'I heard it also' bowed Lord Stephen. 'I am more than pleasured to have such wonderful brother. I hope we will be good friends too.'

He raised his hand to take Vimes'. Sir Samuel drew nearer and whispered in his ear: 'If you make her miserable, pal, I'l kill ya!'

Than he moved away and smiled with his fairest smile ever. The Duke and the Duchess bowed before the greeting couple and moved forward, letting the others to present themselves.

Lord Stephen's heart stopped for a second. The lady standing in front was a woman with charm and beauty a small group of people could vaunt with. She was thin and slim, very attractive in face and body, quick moving and elastic. She was dressed in a green gown with a deep neckline, showing not that much it could have. She had an emerald necklace very similar as Lady Sybil's and an emerald crown on her high hair bun.

She reached her hand and bowed eyes down.

'Nice to see you at last, Milord. Such a pleasure.'

Lord Stephen had to shake himself. He took her hand and presented her to his lips. His eyes were fixed over her face.

'My pleasure too, Your Grace. Meeting you at last!'

The couple glanced at each other. They met. They never had. The battlefield gives a vision of the enemy's strength, its majors and its weakness. One could rarely see its enemy eye to eye. Especially if it is on the other side, at the opposite General staff, planning the best strategy to kill you.

She removed her hand from his hold and dolorously presented her staff.

'This is my adoptive daughter Lady Bettina de Constar.'

The young girl made a step forward and crouched gently in his direction.

'How do you do, Sir'

Lord Stephen bowed his head.

'My pleasure, Lady Bettina.'

He turned his eyes back to Lady Antonia's face. She had a strange look. He had the feeling she was estimating his behaviour through her precise judgement. He had no right of a mistake.

'I am truly happy I would be blessed with such a nice adoptive daughter. May I present you my hand, dear Lady Bettina? I would be pleased if you grant me the first dance.'

Bettina stared at her mother than stared back to Lord Stephen's face. She smiled briefly and followed his lead.

Lord Vetinari had the strange feeling he had faced some sort of a martial manoeuvre with one particular winner. He looked aside at Lady Antonia's direction. She had nothing on her face. Not anger, not amusement, not even a sign of a feeling. She was standing behind the moving forward couples, surrounded by her retinue women. They had faces like they just needed a sign. She knew what they were ready for and put her eyes on Vetinari's face.

'I think you are to be my escort for now, Sir.'

'Of course, Madam. Shall we show them a style?'

He presented her his fore-arm and led her in.

---

Angua was standing by the bedroom window. The night had come so fast she didn't even notice. The air from outside was unusual. She felt it with her essence.

Carrot was patrolling somewhere near the Palace. He was executing Mr. Vimes' order. There should be peace that night. No one had to threat the city now. Especially now, when all of the city's nobility and wealth was gathered there.

She pressed her hand over her abdomen. It was still early, but she felt the time flying. She knew what to do. She had already found the perfect spot. It was cosy and peaceful. No one would disturb her.

She leaned over the window and examined the street. Than went to the righting table. There was a peace of paper and dill in the ink pot.

---

'…You had ten days to carry out the task. Ten days!'

'Ten short days and nine abortive nights, sir.'

'Indeed. What happens? Why haven't you accomplished your task?'

'I had had a lot of troubles, especially entering into the subject's chambers. It had been quite tricky piece of work, sir. I need some more time.'

'Your time will be up in one day and two nights time.'

'I know it already, but thank you for reminding me that.'

'Than why didn't you do your job?'

'I have already explained you how difficult this task appears to be.'

'Don't dare telling me what I already know. And don't waste your time. Just go and… inhume someone. Shish!'

Sir Andrew Pie rushed out of the hidden room behind the curtains near the wall. He had the feeling he had to carry away from this event, but had the unspecified feeling that there could his task be developed to end. Unfortunately he met Dr. Downey and the curtains were the best place to hide while being swooped by the Head Assassin.

Yes he had ten days to accomplish this task, but the location of the subject was not the best place ever. It was a hard job, very hard job, indeed. He already lost seven of his assistants. Six of them were killed while executing their master's plan. One of them disappeared without trace while being on the lurk by the subject's location.

Dr. Downey just couldn't understand it all. How could he?

Sir Andrew wormed his way through the crowd in the Large Ball Hall. The subject was visible over there – between the group of those men and women, sitting in its comfy chair and having no idea what would have happen soon.

The Assassin went on; there was just a little more space between…

'Oh, Sir Andrew! Such a pleasure! How long haven't we met? Seven months? Longer?'

The drunken man patted his shoulder and tried to pick his hand, but had lost his balance and hanged down Sir Andrew's neck. It was not the time for stupid jokes like this. Sir Andrew, being a proper gentleman, had to hold up and help his mate. Being a supportive hand for a drunken man was not one of his best propensities, it was often unrewarded labour, meaning the drunkard's gratitude lack in a result of sober down.

'Be careful, old pal!' Sir Andrew settled him in the nearest sofa and burst his eyes to the direction he was moving to. The group of people was still there. He relaxed in his mind and wormed his way again. He felt the little black knife in his jacket pocket's crack and loosened the mechanism that used to hold up the knife in its nest. It swished and engulfed into the Assassin's hand.

The dancing couples surrounded him in his path. He tried to repulse himself and wind off their dancing coils. Than went to the steps, leading to the higher level where the dining tables and the most of the chairs were. He gazed to see the subject. It was gone. In its place there was another subject.

Sir Andrew stared around to see where it had gone but saw nothing. He took a jaundiced view of the crowd and slipped away from the mass.

He was angry. To himself on first place, for being pushed by that snake Downey. He never had the dare to understand his special techniques and his point of view. Yes, he was not fast, but was efficient and successful. And Downey with his stupid notice: 'You had ten days to carry out the task…'

He lost his temper and was sorry for it, because in times when he loses himself, he loses his touch with the reality. This was the most important part for the successful assassin.

Sir Andrew burst out of the crowd and moved to the open two-leaved door leading to the garden. He needed some fresh air to clear his mind. There was too short time. He had to concentrate.

---

The dances continued. Lord Stephen and Bettina were still on the floor. The young Amazon was surprised and quite impressed by the smaiilian's behaviour. He didn't move away from her. He overwhelmed her with his attention. Bettina was trying to find her mother's eyes, but she was not there.

Lord Stephen handed her a glass of champagne. She took a little sip and moved further on the sofa, letting him settle near her.

'So, you were saying…?' he smiled at her while she was sipping again.

'I was saying a lot of things lately.' said the young Amazon. Her eyes were tired. Her partner was not in his youngest years, but was a good and tireless dancer.

'You were telling me about your adoptive mother.' He looked at her, trying to read anything coming from her eyes. She gazed at him with a lack of understanding, she pronounced slowly:

'I never started telling you anything about my adoptive mother.'

He gazed her back and shrugged his shoulders.

'But you were intending to, weren't you?'

'Not at all' she answered. 'If I am to tell you something it would be what I am ordered to.'

He put his eyes on her lips – playing with the edge of the glass. She was very beautiful here, sitting comfortably near him and just sipping calmly from her chalice. She had the look of a woman, not a young girl she was.

'I guess you had been instructed what to say in case you are in a position to do so.' His eyes burst into hers and he saw her hint of shiver. It was a common reaction of his best look ever. Someday he had to patent it. It would make him much richer.

The young Amazon downed her eyes and sighed.

'Yes.'

He looked at her again. She moved a little bit away from his stare and than, collected her own dispersed might, she stared back.

'What would you want to know?'

He gazed at her. She was much stronger now. And yes, she was much grown up now.

'You had intrigued my mother by picking me as your company.' She smiled briefly. 'Now she thinks she had to prepare better for her next meeting with you. Congratulations!'

Lord Stephen smiled and leaned to the sofa's back.

'What can you tell me about your mother? Did she really adopt you?'

'I was told when I was still very young, that Lady Antonia found me during her serial campaign at the borders. I was filled up in the snow, almost naked, very ill. She took me and fed me. I was told she was seeking for my parents very long time, but didn't find them. Than she had to chose: either to leave me to the orphanage, or to adopt me. She chose the second. She was fifteen then'

'I haven't heard such a young child, let us call it properly, to choose adoption of a baby, without confronting the authorities.' Lord Stephen burst his eyebrows. The Amazon answered rapidly:

'Lady Antonia is and has always been the highest authority I have met.'

'Even the Queen?'

'Even Queen Balmola has to think before say some things to my mother. She has a judge rang in Quart. She is well educated and has a great physical and mental power. My mother hasn't ever met with a loss on the battlefield. But she is a woman and as such she has some duty to execute. Such as marriage. Nevertheless how stupid it looks.'

'So, you say that the Queen had asked her to marry me, nevertheless she was frightened by her reaction?'

'The Queen and my mother had an agreement. Each of them had to exchange something important. The Queen asked my mother to marry you,' she looked at him with a lack of understanding, 'and my mother agreed. In some circumstances.'

'Which were?'

'My life.'

Lord Stephen stared at her. She mustn't have told him the truth. But her eyes… they were not lying.

'What do you mean?' he winked quickly.

'Each ten years the Senate gathers in a sacred ceremony, in consecration of ten accidentally chosen Amazons into a priesthood. The ladies had to fight in a deadly battle until one of them wins. The others were murdered in front of their families, accused in the crime of not being the best.

You must know something about me: I am not as strong as my mother is. After all I am not her real daughter. So, I was chosen and I almost won. But my enemy, Sylvia de Marvel was stronger. I had to face my destiny…'

'And your mother saved you?' sighed Lord Stephen.

'Yes.' Bettina lowered her head. 'She chose going into exile and loosing her freedom, than loosing me.' She looked at his eyes. 'Do you understand what it means?'

'I think I do.' Answered the smaiilian. 'It means that she chose to keep you alive because she loves you.'

Bettina smiled and shook her head.

'Why should you be so… No! It means that she desists from her military career. She desists from the throne…'

'Excuse me?'

'As a commander my mother has a name that goes through Quart as a symbol of invincibility. Her nickname is spread along the Disk. Everyone knows what means The Red Tulip. It means unbreakable success. And the Queen Balmola knows it. My mother is the worst enemy her ill daughter would have when she would be gone.'

'But the Princess has the full right to inherit her as a Queen.'

'Not in Quart. We watch at the strength and the political mind, the blood comes second.'

Lord Stephen lowered his head. He was so familiar with it all. Looking at himself and _his_ King. The contract… It was so… familiar…

'Than… Lady Antonia had sacrificed herself twice: once for your life and second for her future…'

'Yes, she did. And she became even more famous with it. People of Quart love her; because she would sacrifice her virginity to the Quart's best.'

'Wait a second! You have said 'virginity'?! Do you intend to say Lady Antonia is…?'

'She is, yes' answered the Amazon staring at his direction. He was shocked, looking at her and slightly turning his attention at the place where his future wife was. She was not having fun, it was obvious.

'I thought that Amazons are quite… active ladies.' He said and turned his eyes to the floor, avoiding her stare. 'I thought you were…'

'Well' Bettina moved up her shoulder. 'Some of us are, but some are sharing the old fashioned tradition to remain clear until first time they fall in love.'

'Oh, dear. Now you say she had never been in love.'

'I guess so, if she is still virgin.'

'Don't say that word again, please.'

'Why? This is some kind of a title for a woman like my mother.'

'The fact that you call her mother and than saying she is…' Lord Stephen moved up quickly and faced Bettina in full sight. 'I am not sure I could manage this. I am not sure I could handle this. I am not prepared. No one told me I should be with a woman that had never…'

Bettina sighed and moved back. 'She would not let you in her bed anyway, so don't worry.'

Lord Stephen shot a glance at her. He was looking insulted by the way the young Amazon said Lady Antonia wouldn't let him into their nuptial bed. He was never sending away from a lady's bed. He was quite handsome to be a preferable company each and every woman would choose.

He turned at the direction his future wife had been five minutes ago. She was gone. He caught himself thinking of her, while moving his eyes through the crowd. He caught himself seeking her.

His future adoptive daughter moved closer to his ear and whispered:

'I pity you. You would be married to a woman you could never have. A woman fairest than anyone you have ever seen. A general better than you. A soldier with a bigger talent than yours.'

She moved to the other ear: 'I pity you. If my mother ever goes to bed with you, she would be pushed to do it. I pity you, because you don't know how to make her want you.'

She smiled at him and moved through the crowd.

---


	4. Chapter 4

---

The library was empty and silent. The wooden shells were full with books of any kind and aspect. The door leading to the outward noise opened, letting the woman enter. She was tired and bored. She closed the door behind her and sighed with satisfaction. Than she moved forward the book shells, centring her attention to the names written on their covers edges. She moved along the lines, sipping from her glass of red wine.

At the end of the huge Palace library was a small section, no one had interest to visit. It was full of those unpractical books you red once and swear never to read again. That was the 'Political section'. There was no person in the Palace, interested in politics, except the Patrician himself. The section was in a corner, separated from the rest of them by the History section and the Philosophy section. By the lack of space, the few shells were separated in an individual space with some kind of a door and a large window, looking at the Palace garden.

Lady Antonia picked up a book and settled in the ugly yellow chair, put by the window, backing the 'Political misjudgements' section. She opened the book and smiled. It was 'A war with no words' by Maximus Padlock Sr.

She had had fun he first time she red it. She had fun the next time she red it, and every each time, before going to bed1. It was a book to make you yawn.

Antonia needed a rest; she needed a silence and calmness for a while. The book she had in her hands, made her sleepy. She yawned, while reading the first few pages and lowered her head at the chair's arm.

Two minutes passed when she whispered:

'Come out! I can not see you, can not hear you, but I feel your presence.'

She opened her eyes to see through the darkness. There was no one moving. She sighed deeply and said aloud:

'All right. You chose.'

She thrust her hand under the green veils of her skirt and pulled out a slim silver knife she stared for a second, than threw it behind her in a direction she couldn't oversee. It stabbed. Someone groaned out with pain.

She stood up and moved to its direction. The body was on the floor, in a puddle of blood.

She moved her fingers through the victim's clothes and extracted the pin. It was dark black, with black polished symbols on it. '_Them again_' thought the Amazon. '_What do they want from me?_'

She touched the man's throat. There was still pulse underneath. She pressed her finger to a little spot under his head and saw the blood stopping. Than wait for a minute before slapping his face. The man shimmered and stood up in a rush. He put his back on the wall and froze, facing Lady Antonia's stare.

'Who are you?' she asked. The man remained silent. She moved closer. He moved back.

'What do you want from me?'

He was still silent.

She moved closer much faster than he had expected. He couldn't have a chance to escape. She caught his arm and shoulders.

'If you don't speak, I will have to do something very unpleasant.' She pressed her hand on his head's bottom. She looked at him with a stare that doesn't give any delusions there would something bad coming. 'If I press you here your wound will continue bleeding and you will die of haemorrhage. You have ten seconds to think about it.'

She pressed the spot and waited. The man stared at her eyes with a mortal fear. Being an Assassin doesn't make you a courageous person.

The tick-tack, coming from the clock nearby came with accumulating depression for the future the Assassin was observing already. He put his pleading look on her. He was a trained man, well educated and prestigious. He had a good fortune and success, developed by his past luck. Now he was in unenviable position. Someone controlled his faith and as far as he knew, this one was not kind-hearted. He was expecting his end, when he heard the last 'tack' and stared at his aggressor's face. There was not mercy on it.

He already felt the fingers pressing the spot, when he shouted:

'I am on a contract. I have nothing more to say.'

The Amazon relaxed her hands and watched him doubling on the floor after the mortal shock he had faced.

'Who is the commissionaire?'

He was silent.

'I would be satisfied more if you voluntarily tell me who he is.'

The man turned his face to hers. She was staring at him with a pale grim look. He shimmered.

'I can't tell you this. You know the orders.'

'Yes, I was introduced with this freak codex of yours.' She moved back and settled in the chair, with no interest of the man, standing a few steps in her back. He knew she had no face contact with him, but he was quite aware of her anyway. 'I know the time when you tell your commissionaire's name. When you inhume someone.' She took a deep sigh. 'Let's imagine you have succeeded with your task. Now, tell me the name.'

The Assassin moved closer, than rethought and moved back to his place by the wall.

'I can not do this.' He had some sign of uncertainly in his voice. 'I _did not_ succeed…'

'Let us believe in a minute that you _did_.'

'But I…'

'Dear Sir' sighed the Amazon. 'This is known by you and me only. No one is going to judge you after.'

'I am a righteous member of the Assassin Guild and I am…'

He stopped his flow of words, because he saw the Amazon facing him again. He swallowed with difficulty and moved as much back as he could.

'You are facing two paths, Mr. Assassin,'

He froze in fear. The woman appeared by his side just for a second time. She whispered in his ear.

'The one is going left. It leads you to your life… Your future.'

She touched his cheek and sighed.

'The other goes right. It brings death. The only difference between the left and the right ways is your mouth speaking. Do your decision. You have no time left.'

The assassin swallowed hard and stared at the deadly green eyes in his front.

---

Sir Andrew rushed out of the room. He was pale. He had to find Dr. Downey fast. Very fast.

Lady Antonia was left alone in the library. She was pale and angry. The story she was told made her thoughtful and silent. She swallowed the last drop of wine and leaned back in her chair.

There was a clap. She jumped up and put her hand under her veil skirt.

'Bravo, Madam! That was a masterpiece!'

Lord Havelock Vetinari moved from the darkness. His hands were gathered into an unfinished clap. He settled in the chair opposing the Amazon's and filled her glass with the bottle he drew out from his black tunic. He watched the woman settling back, her hand still under her skirt.

'I am sorry for scaring you, Madam. It was not a purpose of mine.'

'How long have you been here?' gazed the Amazon.

'Long enough to admire your interrogation technique.'

'This is _not my_ interrogation technique' answered Lady Antonia with a sigh. 'If I used _my_ interrogation technique, that man would be dead.'

'I see' faced at her the Patrician. 'Anyway, now you have key information that would be very helpful in nearest future. The question is: How are you using it from now on?'

'I have my ways to use this kind of information.'

'As a ruler of the city you are in, I have the right to know if there will be some specifics I should oversee as dangerous for my citizens.'

'As a high rang military person, not subdued your administration, I have he right not to share any kind of information about the manoeuvres I intend to do in future.'

She put her eyes on his. Her green stare opposed his blue stare.

'As your host I ask you to be so kind and share. I could be a helpful alliance, Madam. Use me.'

'I need no alliance.' She stood up slowly. 'Especially male.'

She stepped to the door, stopped before opening it and turned to his pursuing eyes.

'But I promise not to harm anyone not involved into this, as you might say 'misunderstanding'. If I need your advice, I will turn to you. Until then, I will be obliged if you don't let yourself share your wisdom with me. It would not be taken the proper way. Have a nice night.'

She went out of the library and moved to the entrance door, gathering her staff.

-------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you like what I wrote. This is idea I had long time ago. I guess you know what would happen. I really want to see Vetinari in a position like this.

I am expecting your advices. The action will be based on them.

1 She was having bad insomnia for years. Her 'sleep tide' library was even bigger than any other's.


	5. Chapter 5

No one had any idea of what had happened that night. There were no rumours, not a hint of anything wrong, happening in the city of Ankh-Morpork. People woke up as they ever did, not mentioning there were people missing. It looks like they were not that significant to be noticed.

The only person, which absence was visual, was the President of the Ankh-Morpork Assassins Guild, Dr. Septimus Downey. His awfully young wife Lady Bertha rushed into the Oblong Office, following by the nervous slender figure of Rufus Drumknott, Lord Vetinari's head clerk.

'Milady!' welcomed the Patrician and jumped from his chair to support her not to fall on the floor. 'What happened?'

She turned her weeping face and cried: 'Your Lordship…'

She fell in passion of tears. Her hair was shaggy; her skirt was muddy and tattered. She wasn't having the lustre of the exquisite lady she was most famous with. Now she was just a woman with a very bad morning.

He helped her rise to her feet and put her on the chair opposite his desk. Than he settled back in his seat and observed her calming down. She wiped her eyes and took some deep breaths, than turned her stare to him.

'I am truly sorry for my weakness, Milord', she whispered. 'I was so worried. I didn't know who to turn to in such hard moment. I'm sorry.'

'What happened, Madam?' stared the Patrician. She took a deep breath, her eyes watered again. She articulated with shiver:

'Septimus is gone.'

She burst her face into her palms again and sobbed.

'When I woke up this morning he was gone. He had been gone for long time, because his part on the bed was too cold – I know when he is just gone to work. It was too cold now.'

She swabbed her eyes again. 'He has the habit to say 'good-by' before leaving.' She gawked. 'He did not say anything. Just gone.' She raised and drew nearer. 'Find him… Please...'

The Patrician was in two minds.

He knew Downey well enough to be sure in his safety. The Downeys were a family from more than a year. Lady Bertha was an attractive woman, moving in fashionable circles. She was a person with a delicate charm that makes one to have the proper attitude to her tender nature. Vetinari knew Septimus Downey was deeply in love with his provocative young wife. If he was not, than he wouldn't cross some strict social frontiers connected closely to his marriage.

But Vetinari knew Downey better than he could ever admit. He was introduced to Septimus' proclivity to the young ladies. He was capable to leave his wife for a couple of hours just to visit some of his former sweethearts. These trifles never bothered him. He thought it would be the same with the rest of the world.

The Patrician looked at the anxious face of the woman in front. He was worried. The other idea embarrassed him. He remembered the words he had exchanged with a certain person last night. If what he was thinking was true, it would bring a lot of problems in the nearest future. Some of them would cause a lot of hours of negotiations and transactions he was not adopting willingly.

He shimmered furtively. Than he sighed deeper and calmly pronounced:

'If I were you, I wouldn't be worried, Madam. Your husband has a responsible job that takes him off his bed for much more time than you have to count. As a person introduced with this sort of engagement, I can assure you that Lord Downey is safe somewhere, and working hard, I presume. I would recommend you to go home and wait for his arrival.'

He stood up and helped her walk to the door. She turned back to him and asked entreatingly:

'Are you sure, Your Lordship?'

He smiled and removed a lock of her blond hair, fallen accidentally on his black gown. 'I am absolutely sure there is nothing to worry about. Go home, Milady. Have a nice bath and a nap. I am sure when you wake up, Septimus would be backing home.'

He put her in Drumknott's lead and pushed the door close. Then turned back to his place and settled calmly in his chair. In few minutes the door opened again, letting his head clerk enter. He was with a notebook and a pencil in his hands already, waiting for his master's commands.

'Detail search immediately. All disengaged agents on. Report in an hour.'

Lord Vetinari took a file from his desktop and opened it. Drumknott was still waiting. He knew his master too well to know when to leave and when to stay.

The Patrician took a deep sigh, pursed his lips and added:

'Please, let Commander Vimes know I would like to see him in an hour too.'

Drumknott bowed and moved to the exit. Before he reached the door-handle, he heard a noise that made him stop and turn around. Vetinari cleaned his throat.

'Is there something else, sir?' asked the clerk.

Vetinari knit his eyebrows, crossed his fingers in front of his lips and sighed again.

'Yes, Drumknott.' He pressed his surreptitious look at him. 'Drop him a hint I would like to see his sister too.'

---

Madam Sarah was lost in her thoughts. She had a strange meeting last night.

What Sir Thodeas didn't know about her – and she prayed he would never know – was her insane desire of night stroll while he was deep in his sleep. It started long time ago, when she was a young girl. There was no particular reason, it was unintentionally and inflexible strive to do something dangerous.

Madam Sarah was a lady with spirit and a will that could turn the world upside down. She had an admirable body structure, cut out for surprise attacks. The reason that made her desire being put in danger was that she was blessed with fast reactions, long legs, and mostly – with God's protection.

She was a seamstress, but before she chose the profession, she was Om's priestess. It was a long story she preferred to keep a secret. What she derived from her undesired sacerdotal life was a mixture of good first-aid knowledge and some unknown battle techniques.

The street she found herself on last night was dark and empty. Some sort of 'walk-in – not walk-out' street, a standard dead-end1. She moved in and stopped. Nevertheless she was under Om's protection, she was still mortal. She had the feeling there would be something wrong happening around. It would be better if she was not involved in it.

When she turned back, ready to follow her recent path, she heard a noise that made her stick to the wall. It was a sound of struggle. There was a voice. Not just an ordinary one. A wounded one, exasperated one. She lost her tongue. The noise was coming from somewhere not far away. There was another voice, aggressive one, escalating its danger.

Madam Sarah stood still. The fight continued much longer than she had expected. Finally everything calmed down. She stood by the wall for a little longer, waiting to see if it was safe to move further. She stepped insecurely. No one moved. She relaxed with a deep sigh and was in her normal pace, when she heard the sob.

It was a woman's cry. Sarah turned to its direction and followed the noise. The dead-end had only one door. It was blocked by a garbage can and some sacks of rags and litter. The voice was coming from there. Sarah rolled up her sleeves and put her hands to the work. The door was not easy to be open. It was old and rusty, but nevertheless she was able to set it ajar and edge into the narrow passage leading to the messy door-less room.

There was a woman on the floor, writhed in pain. There was a dead body aside. Madam Sarah looked at it. The head of the pale bloody man was slightly forward, turned to the small dusty window. The spare moon beams washed his canine teeth. Sarah shimmered and stepped back.

'Vampire?!' She whispered hardly. The woman lifted her head and looked at her. Her eyes were fatigued and gloomy.

'Away…' She cawed out weakly. 'Go away!'

Madam Sarah stood still, staring the both bodies. The woman tried to go up, but fell back. Sarah rushed to help her, but was thrown off.

'I said… GO AWAY!'

Sarah gazed at her face. She tried to recall it. It was strangely familiar. The woman stood up finally. Her skirt fastened its place and her special condition became obvious.

'Dear Gods!' shouted Sarah. 'You are…'

'_I said go away_!' screamed the woman. 'Are you _depth_ or you have a _perceive_ defect?! _GO AWAY, woman_!'

Angua tried to step out of the room but slid down in Sarah's hands. She lost conscious. The seamstress doubled under her weight. _Gods, how heavy she was_! It was obvious she was having difficult life – no woman should have such firmed muscles. She groaned out and moved the woman through the outlet.

Sarah sighed for a moment, than looked at her reflection and moved from the mirror. She passed the corridor and entered into the small bedroom. The woman was still sleeping.

She had a long conversation with Sir Thodeas, than the local physician examined the patient. She had many bruises, lots of cuts and, luckily, no bite. Happily, the baby was fine. She was quite successful in her fight with the vampire. It was well known the vampire's predilection for pregnant women. Those lone creatures, steering aloof of the Black Ribbon society, counted on someone's left hand, took the pregnancy as a delicacy for their sharp senses. Having two lives in a hand was superb sensation. It was a mystery how did he fall into her. Sir Thodeas said, it was a great luck for this woman to remain breathing after a battle like this. He came to visit the patient once again and went to bed, leaving his mistress by the patient's bed.

Sarah took a deep gulp of air. She was too nervous last night, she couldn't sleep. The shock she had, made her imagine what that woman had experienced, and because she was having a rich imagination, she couldn't close her eyes in fear, that there were many Red Ribbon vampires in the city. Too many, at least. The preferable number, she thought, would be nought.

She sat by the woman's bed and stared at her. She was beautiful; very light blond, porcelain skin, bony and slim. It was obvious she was in the last days of her pregnancy. A loathsome way to deliver your child.

Sarah moaned and tried to think of the reasons she was found in that dirty horrible den. She didn't have enough time. The woman groaned, moved and opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, than her stare moved further down and stopped at Sarah's face. She breathed out deeply and groaned with pain:

'I told you… go… away…'

She closed her eyes weakly and fell into a deep sleep.

---

Carrot rushed into Commander Vimes's office. His eyes were sore and penetrating.

'Sir, Angua's disappeared!'

He put the message on his desk and moved back, saluting.

Vimes took a deep breath in and out, than put his eyes on the paper.

'She's too?'

Carrot twisted his head and curved his eyebrows.

'Who's missing too, Sir?'

Vimes lit another piece of paper and red. 'It looks like the President of the Assassins is missing too. I have a meeting with His Lordship in an hour time.'

'Where could he go?'

Carrot mused for a while, than stepped closer.

'Maybe Miss Marble would know something…'

'She doesn't.' answered Vimes heatedly. 'Not even the seamstresses. Mrs. Palm reported a few minutes ago. The man seems to be… vanished.'

'Men don't vanish just like that' Carrot snapped his fingers and stared at Vimes's face. 'There must be some very simple explanation. I am sure when we find Mr. Downey we will be laughing our heads off.'

'_When_ we find him…' Vimes lifted up and moved to the windowpane. He gaped for a long time and finally turned to Carrot. 'Captain, I have a job for you.'

The guard stretched up and saluted. 'Yes, Sir!'

'Find him!' ordered the Commander. 'I won't go to the Patrician empty handed.'

Than he sat back in his chair and put his head in his palms. 'If the man's dead, find his slayer. I know it's hard for you in this moment, but this is a personal favour I ask you for. Do it and I will do my best to find your wife. Wherever she is I'll get her. Just find that stupid assassin. Will you?'

'Yes, Sir!' saluted Carrot and turned back to the door.

'Send me Collon when you go down, please.'

---

Queen Balmola's carriage went into the paved yard in front of the Quart's embassy. Two Amazons closed the heavy gate and joined the staff gathered to welcome their mistress. Lady Astral moved to the front and stretched her hand to the queen's. She took it and embraced the old woman's shoulders.

'Welcome, Your Majesty!' greeted the old woman. 'We are honoured to see you at last.'

'Yes, yes.' moaned queen Balmola with a lot of captiousness in her voice. 'Where is she?'

'The Tulip is in her brother's domain, Your Majesty' replied Lady Astral. She shimmered by the eyes of the queen, boring into her fragile body.

'_How dare she_! I was exact in my orders! Call her back! I want her here! _Immediately_!'

The Amazons exchanged glances. The queen observed them for a while, than stared at her cousin's face and roared:

'Have I been speaking in incorrect words? I gave my instructions. Obey!'

'The problem is much delicate than we…' started the old woman.

'I don't see _any_ problems here. _Do you_?'

Lady Astral moved closer and whispered in her ear. Queen Balmola's face transformed. Then she downed her head and sighed angrily: 'Whatever! Let her stay. I don't care. Just be sure she will be in the temple on time!'

She jostled in the embassy. Her entourage followed her, smiling at the locals standing in their stupid gawk.

---

Sir Andrew sat at Jessica's side in her parlour and watched her embroider her husband's napkin. He could sit there for ages, just a few inches from his secret grand passion. She was looking as usual, talking with interest about the things she had done last week, the purchase she had buy, and the pearl necklace Tobias had given her for their anniversary…

The couch was near the hearth. It was not cold, but Jessica liked the warmth, so the fireplace was lit. The logs crackled, licked by the fire tongs, the darkened room illuminated in happy lights and shades. Jessica sat by the fire, she was smiling at her uncle's stories, laughing at the faces he was making. '_Just like ten years ago_', thought Sir Andrew, '_The time must have stopped and turned back_.' There were no husbands, no intruders drifting her away from his hold.

He looked at the needle in the young woman's hand. What was done was good. Jessica had practised hands. The flowers on the embroidery were very good. Especially the tiny daisies interweaving the stylish grey cell. He was observing her mastery and delighted by the endorsement sounds coming from his left.

'… these words he used. Exactly these words. Imagine, uncle, to have the boldness to say these words to my Tobias!'

She stand up to answer the thud on the door. It did not take long, because the house Tobias could afford was too small. He was a clerk in the Merchant's Guild, a nice position for a young man with great outlook for the future. The problem was that Jessica was a member of a noble family with specific criterion and incomes. She was accustomed to get all she wanted. That was the first problem. The second problem was that Jessica used to be her rich uncle's Weakness. He was a Master Assassin, had several fortunes, and had no family to carry about. All his attention was turned to his only niece. He presented her with quite expensive stuff; some of his presents cost his month earnings. Tobias was in rage. He knew uncle Andrew had bad influence over his wife, but… What could he do? He loved Jessica and, happily, never had the opportunity to see her angry. After all, she was his heir. He couldn't give her what she want. Why not the old rat do the job. And yet, he was her only family…

Jessica turned back and put an envelope on his knee.

'It was for you, uncle.'

Sir Andrew gazed at her in surprise and opened the letter. The handwriting on the face was unknown, slightly sloping, ending each word with an elegant pothook upwards or downwards. It was a lady's calligraphy. Educated one's.

He red the contest and moved up. Jessica watched him with curiosity. He finished the letter and turned to her face with absent look. He breathed out hardly and reached out for his cloak and hat, put aside.

'I am sorry, my dear, but I have to go.'

He manoeuvred with difficult through the small room. Jessica stood up nervously. 'Is there anything wrong, uncle?'

Sir Andrew looked at her. She had the most precious look. Something between ready to cry and put a smile. He reached out for her hand, pressed it a gentle kiss and smiled. 'No, dear. Just a… friend… needs my help.' She grinned hastily and hugged him with satisfaction. Than he looked at her again and rushed to the door.

When he went out on the street, his face was colourless. He had an appointment he expected at least.

---

Vimes knocked on the Oblong Office's door. He heard the official 'Enter!' and pressed the door handle down.

Vetinari was sitting in his chair, reading. His face was impassive, busy with subjects so far from normal people's thoughts.

Vimes drew nearer and stretched in His Lordship's view. Few minutes passed before the Patrician noticed his presence. He directed up his eyes and smiled rapidly:

'Your Grace! What a pleasure surprise!'

Vimes saluted weakly. 'You wanted to see me, Sir.'

'Oh, yes!' Vetinari drove back the documents in his desktop and sighed.

'It seems like our own Head Assassin had never to be seen. His wife reported his absence an hour ago. The man seems to vanish without a trace. My agents are still seeking for him. All for nothing. Do you have anything to tell me?'

Vimes sank your teeth into his lips. Carrot had no luck either. He sent him a pigeon message five minutes ago. '_Still looking. No success. Report soon_.' Such a relief…

'Unfortunately, no success with the Watch too, sir.' Vimes tried not to look at Vetinari's face. Anyway, it was not necessary to drive him in the corner. The Patrician stood up and spat out:

'I don't know how well you realize it, Sir Samuel. This is not a case of a missing as such. We talk about the Assassin's _President_. I really hope there wouldn't be a chance to meet the possible circumstances we are about to face. The absence of a person of such importance would be a Problem with big P. The political unsteadiness through the guilds would bring the city into some bigger trouble. What do you do to prevent it all, is what I want to know.'

'We do our best, Sir.' Answered Vimes calmly.

'I am sure you do.' Vetinari lifted up and stand in front of Vimes's look. There was no escape. The Commander stared at his eyes. In moments like this the ability to remain calm was vital. Vetinari was famous with his icy gaze, but Vimes was a righteous inheritor of Old Stoneface's facial problem.

'The search continues, Sir' added Vimes. 'Carrot is on the job.'

Vetinari turned his head to his direction. Then moved away with contentment and stood up by the huge window.

'I really hope _your_ captain would have the success we need, Sir Samuel. I am sure Mr. Ironfounderson's faculty for people would do our favour. And I hope Dr. Downey would be found in good health soon. His wife asked me that favour.'

Vimes looked at him. He had a sign of a emotion on his face. He was surprised; he shimmered for a second and cleared his throat.

'Sir… You know Carrot. He is a brave lad. If someone would find that junk… uhum… Dr. Downey, it would be him.'

Vetinari smiled for a second and moved back to his chair. He settled and put his palms on the desktop. He lit a folder up and stared it. 'I expect your forthcoming report, Commander. Have a nice day.'

Vimes saluted and turned to the door.

'I hope your sister is feeling fine.'

Vimes stopped.

'Yes, she is okay. Sends her regards.'

'I expected to see her today.'

Vimes beat his lip. 'You will. I've been told she was to come any minute.'

'Wonderful!'

'To the sign of the Treaty, as I've heard.'

'Oh, yes, the Meeting.'

Vimes touched the door handle. Vetinari lit his look at him and upended absently: 'I shall see you on the wedding, Sir Samuel. Please, forward my regards to your wife. Have a nice and _successful_ day.'

Vimes burst out in a hurry. Vetinari groaned and run his fingers along his black robe, extracting a little black key. He put it into a tiny keyhole and switched. A small locker opened. Vetinari thrust his hands inside and drew out a slim black file. 'Treaty' was signed on its label. He opened it and red. It was a document he had the providence to appropriate. It was a dangerous and very expensive job. No one keeps the data with higher jealousy then the Amazons. He lost two of his best agents on that task. The Treaty was important part of the goings on the city lately. He had to know what to expect.

A marriage… Not as such, of course. A political determination of a political crisis. Covered with the sweet gleam of a domestic event with state character. Very clever, indeed. But too flat for those who could read between the lines. The choice of a couple was a failure. There should be at least one of them with a heart.

Vetinari glanced at the writing. The terms were very obligate. Especially those in section Four. He grew pensive. He red the Treaty several times. The terms were tough. No one would agree them all, without protecting his own dignity.

He smiled. He imagined the reaction of the Amazon. She would turn the office upside down. No one gets furious as she does. He smiled again, leaning back.

The door opened. Drumknott entered and reported hurriedly:

'Sir, the delegations are here.'

Vetinari exhaled noisily and lifted up. 'Let them in.'

---

'This is _a disgrace_!' bellowed the young Amazon. She held up the papers. '_In case of non-appearance of the bride, her place will be taken by her offspring_. What is _this_?'

'It means that if you decline to marry the particular man, your place will be taken by your daughter.' Answered the Head of the Lawyer's Guild. Lady Antonia glanced at the zombie's grey face and threw down the papers on the table with a crack.

'What about _that_ term.' She red again. '_Five years indestructible period_. What does it mean? Am I bound with this marriage for five long years? What about my…'

'Tulip,' shouted queen Balmola. 'The Treaty had been changed for hundred times. We all know what a big sacrifice you and your future husband do. What you see is what you get. Be reasonable!'

The Amazon glared angrily at her queen and the rest of the present company. She turned her pale face to the Patrician. He was looking at her with interest. She put her eyes on the Treaty again.

'I can not agree with most of the terms in part Four. I believe they are partial.' She red again. '"_The progeny of the wedlock would have one sized citizenship_." If there are any, I would like to negotiate subsequently.'

'You have the right to ask for it.' Lord Stephen moaned and took the dill. He was bored. It was for more than two hours. The Amazon challenged any term. At the beginning he was intrigued, but now… He placed his signature. The Amazon stared at him with incomprehension. She red again. 'What about this term: _"If_ _the groom fails to appear or finds impossible into the matrimony, he will be replaced by a pointed man, entrust with all his obligations and rights. The Treaty will be considered as a legal nevertheless the sides are not the original ones."_ Why not a family member? I have to sacrifice my own adopted daughter. Why not him?'

'Because he hasn't any', answered the king of Smaiil with monotony. He faced queen Balmola. There were no words needed.

Lady Antonia pointed at Vetinari. 'Does it mean that if Mr. Marmora is unable to proceed his duty, I would be bound for five years with _that_ man?'

The zombie bent down his head in agreement. 'That is why His Lordship was asked to sign the Treaty too. Your daughter already confirmed her agreement. Yours is the last signature we need, Madam.'

Lady Antonia lifted up in anger and paced up and down the room. She was worried, it was obvious. She put her hands into her locks, trying to think about all that would happen shortly. She had a tiny hope that everything would blow over. Now there were three signatures on a contract, bowing her into this absurd joke.

Queen Balmola tapped the tabletop with her fingers and stood up unwillingly. She approached and grabbed her forearm. The Amazon stopped and faced her. The queen stepped back in panic, than pulled herself together. She moved closer. They talked silently for a couple of minutes.

Vetinari observed the soundless conversation with interest. He was a skilful man, given with many talents. No one had the idea, which they were. If they knew, they would be gesticulating less visible.

When they appeared back, Lady Antonia took the gill. Her face was pale and distressed. Vetinari pretended to be deaf and blind. Although the information he gathered was too remarkable.

'Where do I sign?'

The zombie opened the official document and showed the place. She scribbled and put the gill apart. Then settled back in her chair. She put her head in her palms. The zombie collected the Treaty with a diligent smile.

'Congratulations, Ladies and Gentlemen! The Treaty had been signed. I would like to wish you a good life. Enjoy your peace.'

The delegates rose on their feet and moved to the door. Lady Antonia moved her chair away from the table and prepared to stand up.

'Would you stay for a minute, Your Grace?' Said the Patrician and closed the door behind the last one exiting. The Amazon settled back and sighed.

'If you intend to ask me about your Mr. Downey, I would save you the trouble – he is fine and at this moment must be returning home.'

Lord Vetinari sat beside her. She turned her exhausted face at his. He had the audacity to sympathize her. She stood up and paced to the door.

'Did you get what you wanted?' asked the Patrician. She moaned. 'I always achieve what I want.' She pressed the door handle.

'It doesn't look you like what you will be achieving tomorrow.'

She turned and stared at him. 'Tomorrow is just another day. What bothers me is what would happen the day after tomorrow. Good day, Sir. I guess I will see you on the wedding.'

Lady Antonia opened the door and stepped out. Lord Havelock Vetinari moved to the window.

---

1 Imagine a pair of garbage cans, litter spoiled around, several torn cardboard boxes, a pair of cats, fighting for the mouse, and stick in a fish can – more dead than alive.


	6. Chapter 6

---

Septimus Downey was a prudent man, although he was not famed with it. Everyone knew he was a skirt chaser, fastidious man with heterogeneous interests, and mostly, extremely gifted Head of the Assassins Guild.

Yes, there were many good Presidents of the Guild before his time. Numerous of elders remembered some of their names, mostly stories they were involved. However, they had fewer duties, the political situation was easier, and the time was different. The Assassins Guild had transformed a few years earlier, since its manager, Dr. Septimus Downey had passed the supervisory control to the Supreme counsel, assembling twice a year. It became the body of electors, pointing the next few candidates for the Presidency. It was Dr. Downey's personal achievement. He had planned it for years. There were too many people thinking he had reached too much power. There was something to be done.

He never lost any election. That was a sign for those thinking his influence was becoming weaker because of the Council. Dr. Downey was a practical man. He did not have to demonstrate it in everyone's eyes.

He had a name of a cold-blooded man nevertheless of the situation he was put in. Most of the circumstances, anyway. However, what he had experienced that night was too much even for him. When he returned home, his wife fell into a happy hysteria, hugging and kissing him, explaining how worried she was, how many people she had pressed in order to find him. He never used to lie to his wife. Now he had to. He had the chance to appear home with Sir Andrew. It was a suitable explanation: he was working, as ever, very hard. Sir Andrew's colourless face almost betrayed him. That man had no spirit for this kind of things.

He was still exhausted when he went to the Obscure office. He seated in his stool and took a deep breath. Than buried his head into his palms and tried not to think about the night he had. There was a knock on the door. His clerk entered trying not to mention his master's appearance. He put some files on his desk and a cup of hot tea, and then moved back.

'Mr. Sprat is here, Sir, as you demanded.'

Downey looked at him briefly and answered in a tired voice: 'Let him in, Scruples.' He manoeuvred back in his chair and stared at the young assassin's face.

Mr. Eugene Sprat was a good-looking and very severe man. He had the name of a prosperous professional with huge practice, nevertheless of his age. He returned from Klach few years ago. He was thirty-seven then, but his name was heard further than any else assassin's.

He stepped inside the Obscure office and sat on the chair opposite Downey's. He knew what he was here for. That meant that his predecessors had failed. Again. He had a reputation of "the final chance". When someone gives way at the bottom, he has to do his job. That was the main source of his wealth. Being the last chance is expensive affair. He knew some details of the job, but thought that his intervention would not be required at this point. He was wrong. It looks like the object was too skilled to oppose Sir Andrew's mastership. He felt quite intrigued. The object was introduced to him at the pre-wedding occasion. He was fascinated by its charm and manners. Who could suspect such fairy woman to be the best general Quart had ever had.

Mr. Sprat took the note from Dr. Downey's shivering hand and put a respectful look at it. It was a matter of manners. Then he creased it and put it in his pocket.

'The job should be done before the ceremony.' Dr. Downey had a strange flicker in his eyes. 'Unfortunately you have not enough time, I am sorry for this inconvenience, but I truly hope you would be able to carry out that tricky peace of work.'

'I hope so, sir.' Answered Eugene and moved up.

'Your predecessor had not luck; nevertheless he is one of the best professionals I know.' Dr. Downey lifted up and came closer, put his hands on Mr. Sprat's shoulder, and murmured: 'I have convinced myself that you have a rare talent, my boy. You have not failed in any task you had since you came back to Ankh-Morpork. I really hope it would not be the last time we use your services.'

He led the young assassin to the door and took the door handle to open. Then stood motionless and turned his face to Mr. Sprat's. There was a shadow of something inhuman in his eyes. Downey leaned against the door.

'Do me a favour, young man', he said. 'Do the job precisely and… delicately. I want the world to see… your success. This is going to be the job in people's tongs for years. That would be your invitation to the big world, my boy.'

He opened the door and led the assassin out. Sprat's eyes were too astonished even to blink. He stared at the President's face without saying a word. Downey moved the door shut. Before it closed, he whispered again: 'Don't lose your head. Just do what you have to.'

---

Lord Stephen stepped inside the carriage. He put on his formal uniform. He hated it. There was too many gold and medals, and less places the fabric's colour to see. His Royal Majesty King Petromus already sat inside. He was nervous, although not he would wed in half hour. Sir Thodeas and his mistress preferred the everyday carriage. Madam Sarah was worried. She had the strange feeling she should not leave the Embassy.

She had the chance to visit the patient early in the morning. She was awake, still speechless and very angry. She said she was feeling fine, but Sarah was most famous with her premonitions. Yet she ordered the servants to inspect her from time to time.

Lord Stephen was nervous. He knew the day of his wedding would come soon or later, but he had the weird idea that there would something happen and what would happen would miss him within gunshot. When he woke up this morning, he had the reality's slap on his face. He smelled the coffee of life – it was about time.

They had to be in time in the temple. The coachman sped up.

People surrounded the Om's temple. There were coaches parked everywhere. The guards regulated what they could, although they had been Morporkians too. Captain Carrot's troops put some sort of system in the movement, despite of everything the crowd was doing to get a better position to oversee. Commander Vimes was at the door. When the smaiilian's carriage stopped, he opened the door and darted at the groom.

'You are late!'

Lord Stephen nodded in approval and get out, standing by his side. King Petromus joined them shortly, pulled his tunic to its right position and followed them in.

The Big hall of Om's temple was the biggest in Ankh-Morpork. It was so large, that many years ago the Head priest decided to separate it with a wall. It turned into a big hall (for the ordinary people) and a smaller one (for the nobility). They were not much different from each other. The main distinction was that the small hall was nearer the altar, it was brighter and the nobles were aloud to smoke there. Because of the convenience of them both, they had two altars and two entrances. The aristocrats were different from the common people, after all. They had the opportunity not to meet the peasants, especially where they could not have the chance to kick someone in the leg, escaping his suppliant hands.

The auditorium was wide and well arranged. The seats, separated in two columns, were full. Vimes, leading the group, showed his disagreement with their presence. He was an aristocrat, but seven years earlier, he was a peasant too. He did not decide becoming a nobleman. It happened because Vetinari had the odd idea to make him angry the best way he could. By making him a part of the social group, he hated most. He looked at the crowd. Too many royals…

He sat at his place, on the first bench, near the bride's stool and took the hand of his wife. His eyes were fixed on the groom's side. Lord Stephen was nervous and it was obvious. After all, it was his wedding. King Petromus was standing left of his side, whispering something in his ear. The groom stood still and listened.

The crowd outside murmured. Vimes turned back to welcome His Lordship's arrival. Lord Havelock Vetinari passed closer and stood still behind the stools of the couple in front of the altar. His clerk Drumknott stood beside him, continuing his report. He gave Vetinari quill and held the papers, while he was signing them. The Patrician nodded to Vimes and the groom's side, then turned back to welcome the rest of the world, gathered here.

It could be said that the world really gathered here. Most of the royal families of the Disc had their representatives here. If you would like to meet some people from Whatanicefiord, for instance, you just should come at the wedding. The world gathered here. The Om's temple put together some of the richest nations on the Disc. Some of the dangerous countries. The rivals, the competitors, gathered here to oversee two nations producing their peace treaty into action. By sacrificing two people. It was always interesting to witness a sacrifice. After all, it is not you at the altar.

The Head priest came to his place and gathered his palms. It was a sign for quiet. It needed about a minute to make the auditorium impose silence. The hall fell into a pompous nervousness. The Head priest gave a sign to the man operating the organ. He pressed the keys. The music exploded, lifting everyone's hair up in unexpected surprise.

Lord Stephen looked back. The giant gate opened, letting the small red party enter.

---

Mr. Sprat took his position. The Amazons encircled the object all the time. He had the prime idea to use a knife, but it was impossible. The Amazons were best in close fight. He had to use something for a distant hit. There were two possible weapons: a crossbow and a mouth pipe. The crossbow and the mouth pipe had their negatives and positives. For a deadly distant hit, the crossbow was the preferable option. It was small, quick folding; the hit was powerful and deep. The lethality was guaranteed. On the other hand, the mouth pipe was more elegant and invisible. The arrows might be greased with poison, supplying the place of the deep hit. The effect was still death. The question was: what kind of death – fast and in everyone's eyes, or quiet and long…

He had certain orders: precise job… before the ceremony… That meant… He replaced hands and loaded the crossbow. It snapped. The two sides moved to their direction, stretching the bowstring. The assassin placed the arrow in its nest and put the crossbow in his sleeve. He moved down from his hiding place.

---

Lady Antonia passed closer. Her wedding gown shone in red lustre. Her long red train shuffled on the green marbled floor. She had a long red bridal veil over her face. It was a tradition, to show the world the bride's virginity, if there was such. She stepped slowly, like enjoying her position. The Amazons at her back followed her in a precise order. They all had their veils on. Lady Antonia stepped near her future husband and let him remove her red bridal veil. He looked at her pale face and smiled. She was as beautiful as never before. She tried to smile back, but no success. She turned back to Bettina, accompanying her to her stool. She was looking scared. It was seen she was crying. There are daughters, which mothers don't have to marry, because they couldn't live it. As soon Lady Antonia took her place, Bettina took her hand and kissed her. Then moved back and stood by the Patrician's side, mopping her eyes.

Lord Stephen sat beside her and asked for her hand. She subdued unwillingly. The Head Priest cleared his throat.

'Dear guests, we are gathered here to…'

---

Mr. Spratt took position. He was standing at the end of the passage, in everyone's backs. He could level his gun in peace. His heart beat rapidly. He swallowed hardly, fastened the arrow into its nest and aimed.

---

The first arrow stuck into the altar's face. Antonia stood up and extracted the sward she placed beneath her skirt. She thrust her eyes into the man, standing at the end of the passage. He was loading the crossbow again. She turned her eyes to the Amazons, sitting nearby. They stood up and jumped in the air, taking their positions. Bettina tried to extract her weapon, but her mother took her hand.

'Don't move, child!' She tried to step further. She couldn't. Queen Balmola stood at her face and murmured:

'_Don't even think of it, Tulip!_ You have _a job_ to do!' She put her eyes on King Petromus's face. He followed her and stood beside the couple. Lord Stephen took Lady Antonia's hand and sat on his place again. The Amazon turned back to see what happens there. The second arrow came in surprise. It was hard to oversee it, but someone did. Lady Antonia stood up in a hurry. She tried to move aside, but her hand was still in the smaiilian's palm. She looked at him, he red her eyes and stood up. The smaiilian was too fast. Lord Stephen rose just in time to stand in front of his Lady's body. The arrow went into his, running through his stomach. He looked at her, coughed and shimmered, and then he fell over her. She could not hold his heaviness and dragged down on the floor. She felt his blood watering her red gown. He put his head over her breasts and lapsed into silence.

The hall fell into panic. The Amazons cried and attacked. The man tried to escape, but there was no place to go. The women grabbed him. Eugene saw the swards rising. He awaited for the hit.

'Tsa!' cried a voice. The Amazons stopped. They turned back to see their general coming closer. 'Leave him for now!' she ordered. 'I want to interrogate him later on.' She was covered with blood. Smaiilian's blood. She looked at Eugene Spratt's face. He was in horror. She put his head in her hands and stared at him closer. 'You will tell _everything_!' She stared a little bit longer, then removed him and let the Amazons take him away. She nodded the guests around and moved back to the altar. The man she was supposed to marry was on the floor. Bettina was assisting queen Balmola's first aid. Antonia moved closer and removed the young Amazon. She obeyed immediately. The Red Tulip tapped her mistress's shoulder and bowed down to the smaiilian's body. She pressed a finger in his neck and stood still.

'He is still alive' she added. Then she kneeled and took his head on her knee. She pressed a several points on his neck and closed her eyes.

'What is she doing?' asked King Petromus, coming closer. Queen Balmola removed him from her sight and whispered: 'There are points on the body to stop bleeding, to make the flesh fight for life.' She pointed down at the couple. 'She is helping him _not to die_.'

The woman let go of the smaiilian. She was breathing with difficulty. She stood up slowly. She shimmered, felt dizzy and sat in her stool. Bettina joined her, taking her hand. She stared at her.

'Remove him this instant!' ordered Bettina de Constar. People obeyed. Queen Balmola turned to King Petromus's face. Lord Stephen's body was taken away. The arrow was still stick up in his stomach. The hit must be strong, because the arrow's end rose in his back. Queen Balmola stared at King Petromus. The Embassy of Smaiil was not far. He had to stay in bed for more than a week. He _could not_ do his duty.

'Well?' Head priest's red face appeared from the floor. 'Are we gona have a wedding put off?'

'No!' cried both of the royals in one voice. 'The wedding _is_ _today_!'

Queen Balmola turned her face to Vetinari's. He stared back. He stared for long time. Then he took a deep breath and nodded. He unwillingly gave the quill in his fingers to Drumknott's astonished stare.

'What?' he cried. His eyes burst into the Patrician's and then to the faces of the rest of the people, still surrounding them. What he red didn't suite him. He tried to hold his master's march to the wedding stool. 'No! No way! This is not happening!'

Lord Vetinari waited by the stool and turned his doubting stare at the Amazon, sitting in the stool nearby. Then turned his face to Drumknott's.

'I have put my name under a contract, Drumknott. I have a bounded duty to do.' He sat.

'But you are _the Patrician_… Sir! You are…'

'I am about to marry… Yes, I know.' The Patrician stared at the Amazon in his right and took her hand in his. She was pale. She was looking somewhere in front. Somewhere only she could reach. She was breathing deeply, her body was shimmering. He felt the weakness in her hand. He pressed her hardly. She didn't react.

The Head priest stood in front of the couple, amused by the rapid change. He looked questionably at Lord Vetinari's face. Then turned his attention to the both royals in behind. He lit his eyebrows and took the matrimony book. The man on the organ pressed the keys. The matrimony march rang through the temple.

The hall was in silence. Om's priest red.

'We are gathered here to welcome the new… family.' He buried his eyes in the couple in front. They were silent. 'We are here to witness the gathering of…' He stared at the auditorium '…Lord Havelock Antronius Vetinari…' No one moved. They were holding their breaths. '…And Lady Antonia Esmeralda Juniata de Constar…' There was a movement behind. The Amazons still presenting, gathered around the altar. There should be no chance for a next attack. The Head priest stood in front of the couple. He took their gathered hands and lifted them up.

'We all see the will they had shown by this unity. Let them be satisfied.' He lifted them up and turned them to the audience.

'Presenting Lord and Lady Vetinari!'

The Patrician looked at his wife. She had no life in her eyes.

The auditorium exploded. People could not believe their eyes. Is it there Vetinari holding _his wife's_ hand, leading her to the exit, smiling weakly at the people's greetings? The Patrician? MARRIED? What a change! Disk's most distinguished political mind gathered in holly matrimony with Disk's most exquisite war machine… Ankh-Morpork and Quart… Business and Power… What would happen to the world if they decide to work together? Will there be a place without a menace of their reach?

The newly weds moved further to the exit, followed by family and friends. There were lean shouts inside. The cries from the inside moved to separate cries from the outside. Sir Samuel Vimes followed the couple in astonishment. The guards, surrounded Patrician's movement, made him a place. Well, that was too much… Soon enough he was known as Vetinari's terrier. Shortly after, he would be given with other names… Vetinari's brother-in-law would be the best of them. He stepped after the couple. Vetinari's carriage opened and let them in. The coachman stood up. Vimes stood still, he wanted to say something. Like: 'Well done' or 'Welcome to the family', or… He had no words. He closed the door. Lady Antonia's sorrowful eyes shut down. She moved back. The carriage moved up.

Sam Vimes stood silent. As the world around him. What was done was done. _Vetinari – married…_ Who could believe that? The crowd looked at him, still in silence. 'Is it true, Commander?' asked a voice. Vimes looked up. Then he downed his head. The crowd murmured. The whisper continued long enough, and then the crowd exploded. Vetinari _married_! Vetinari married to… guess whom! What a struggle there would be in the bed. Who's gona be up and who's gona be down. Guess who's gona be…'

Sam Vimes moved back from the road and gathered with his wife. He took her hand and looked at her steady face. She smiled softly in response. Then she pressed his cheek with a kiss. It had to happen. After all, she had to marry today. Does it matter whom she became a wife to? It was not an explanation, but it had happen. She let him lead her through the celebrating crowd to their carriage.

---

Lord Vetinari helped his wife step out of the carriage. She was silent all the way to the Palace. She dropped her eyes shut for a minute. She was pallid, she moved slowly and stuporous. She made a step inside the Palace's big hall and leaned weakly on the nearest windowsill. She had a dizzy look. She tried to tell something, but slide down. He held her not to fall. She was as light as feather. She whispered in his ear:

'Find Bettina. She would know what to…'

She shimmered and faint away. Vetinari moved her to the sofa and laid her there. The servants came in his cry and became paralyzed with what they saw. They didn't have to be told what to do. The Patrician followed them up on the stairs. He was pale and pushy. Soon he heard well-known steps. Drumknott appeared. Vetinari pressed him in a corner. 'Find the young Amazon' he hissed. 'You have five minutes.'

Drumknott obeyed noiseless, with a pale face and still looking at his master's hands. Vetinari hid them behind his back. When he was left alone, he went to the closest wash. He had to remove the blood from there.

---

Sir Samuel Vimes passed the note to Carrot's hands and moved to the carriage, waiting in the passage. He had most oppressive news received shortly after turning back to Pseudopolis Yard. His presence at the Palace was mostly exigent.

Carrot unfolded the paper, red it and smiled, looking at the carriage, leaving the Yard. He knew Commander Vimes would keep his promise. He took his helmet, polished it rapidly with his inner sleeve and put it on his head. He hurried down the street. He smiled. Before exiting the street, he was running.

---

Angua stepped by the door. She held her abdomen. It was time. She has to hide. No one should see her now. She has to find a place for the labour. She pressed her fingers into her skin. One more contraction. That was sore. She tried to open the door, but she found out she couldn't. The pain was too sharp.

It was her first child. She used to hear from here and there that the werewolf's childbirth was not common as the human's. She could turn to a wolf any moment. That's why she should be left alone. She was scared she would not hold herself in hurting someone. She was a werewolf, after all. 'Don't believe werewolf' she heard. 'It could smile you now, and in a second time…'

She crushed on the floor, wailing. The time had come. She tried to weigh down the pain, but it was too sharp. She creped back to the bed, lifting up with difficulty. She felt the baby coming out. She cried. She wailed. She grasped the pillow's ends and pulled.

The family must have being back from a while. She heard some noises from the other arm of the house. Nevertheless, no one came to check how she was doing. They must be very busy, because the little servants came to see her in each half hour. Right now, when she needs them…

She cried again. She fell into some kind of unconsciousness, but she still felt the pain. It was weaker, but it was still there. Then she heard voices, she saw faces. The woman was there. Moreover, her man too. They went out for a while, and then the woman was back. There were some other women. One of them moved closer, starting to encourage her. Angua felt the dizziness and the pain growing. She cried, caught the hand she reached and pushed. Then pushed again. And again. She pushed until she heard the cry. A baby's cry. She moved up and saw her child.

'Gods! It has no fur!' She laughed and moved back, giggling. Soon she was given with the child. She looked at it. It stared back… and smiled. Before feeling happy enough, Angua felt the dizziness again. She pressed her abdomen again. The pain continued. 'There is another one!' shouted someone. The baby in Angua's hands was removed. She pushed again. And again… She felt something strange happening around her. She felt the world change. The pain was gone. She heard the cries of her children from a distance. Then she moved her head up. She stood up and saw Carrot rushing into the room. He came to her, he found her. She felt happy… at last… Then she heard someone's talking and moved slowly by her site. He moved through her. Angua burst into a shock. Carrot was over here, so close she could touch him, but when she tried, her fingers went through him like a boat through a fog.

Angua cried. She knew what had happened. She knew it, she felt it… Didn't she? She put her face in her palms. There were no tears although she was crying.

'My family!' she turned her tearless eyes to Carrot, hugging their babies. He was crying. No, he was wailing.

FAMILIES ARE IMPORTANT.

She turned to the voice, coming from her left. There was a dark cowled figure. The man gave her his hand. It was bony. Angua was clever woman. She had to be told once to understand the whole picture. So, she was dead… She thought about this for a while. Then she looked at the tall figure. Death was still reaching for her hand.

'Do I have to come now?'

Death nodded. Angua cried:

'What about by babies?'

Death lifted his bony hand: DON'T WORRY. THEY WILL BE FINE. THEY WILL GROW AND DIE IN OLD AGE.

'I don't even know what they are. I have hoped for a girls and a boy.'

YOU ARE RIGHT… AND WRONG, said Death. YOU HAD TWO SONS.

Angua sighed. She stared at Carrot's face and tried to cry again. She couldn't. He was still holding her boys in his gentle hold. They were all crying. How could she leave them right now? One more day… Just one more day…

Death pulled her hand. She looked at him. Then she obeyed. She walked after him, looking back at the picture of her family, dissolving and disappearing for her. Forever. Soon she disappeared also.

THAT'S MUCH BETTER! Smiled Death. WHEN YOU REBORN YOU WILL BE VERY SURPRISED! Death laughed and vanished.

---


	7. Chapter 7

---

Bettina de Constar went into the Oblong office. Lord Havelock Vetinari lifted up to welcome his… uhum… adopted daughter, he moved closer with the strange feeling he was in somebody else's shoes. It was not common with him – to kiss the hand of a young woman he should call his stepdaughter. She smiled in return and sat at the armchair he had pointed. He sat at the opposite one.

'I am happy to see you… Bettina' uttered the Patrician and tensely cleared his throat. 'Is she better now?'

The young Amazon turned her head. 'The doctor says she was within a hair's breadth last night. She is better now, but still…' She looked at him. He had nothing on his face. But still, she red something in his eyes. He was… concerned. 'She must have lost a lot of blood. The hit was dip, the smaiilian is still ages a life-and-death struggle. If my mother was not there, he must be dead by now.'

He lifted his head and stared at her anxious face. Yes, he saw the woman – he could not call her differently now – doing something he could not describe, but still... He was introduced with the recent first aid techniques; he even had a small experience in saving lives – which no one knew, happily – but what the woman did was… strange, odd, bizarre and… beyond his understanding. Pressing her fingers on some points… What could pressing do? Save your life? Stop the death? Lift you from grave? He moved closer and fixed his eyes on her. She moved in the armchair's back and relaxed.

'I guess you have an issue?' she assumed and prepared to listen. He nodded and sighed:

'I don't understand a lot of the things happening to the people', he started. 'But I am a man, who could accept the facts, if there are any.' His mistrustfully clear sight tensed the young woman. She smiled briefly and added: 'There are a lot you don't know, you are right.' She stood up and marched the space around. 'Many years ago -- and I say many as hundreds and thousands of years -- a wise Amazon named Rabella de Constar was born in captivity.' Lord Vetinari moved back in his seat and prepared for a long and redundant monolog. 'She was raised in an Om's temple far away from her motherland, becoming a protégée of the Om's Head priest Tsardikos. He loved her as his own daughter; he educated her as a Head priestess and prepared her for her future duties, without knowing who she was.' She glimpsed at him and continued: 'She was introduced with techniques no one had ever known. Mighty techniques. So vigorous… She had the chance to choose whom she would like to become to: a priestess, a vindicator or a medicine person… She became them all. Do you know what it means?'

The Patrician did not respond. She smiled and passed him by. 'Some years later the Amazons had the chance to turn back their stolen land. Rabella de Constar saved the temple. She was grateful for saving her life; she was fond of her adoptive father, as I am fond of my adopted mother. What she learned, she transmitted to any Amazon who could withstand the circumstances of the knowledge.'

'What circumstances?' asked Lord Vetinari.

Bettina stopped in her run and faced him slowly. 'The ascetics… the devotion… the warfare…'

She moved further. He followed her pace. His look showed no awareness. 'My mother's kin…' Bettina stepped closer and starred at him uncertainly. '…there is a tradition the biggest daughter to remain… single for life…' She expected to see any feedback on his face. There was none. 'She would not cross the family tradition if she was not… forced to come into this brainless agreement… As soon as she disengages from her… purity… she would lose her magical strength that saved the smaiilian's live. She would become normal… as you and me.'

Bettina de Constar sat back in her place. She smiled uneasily. 'She would not be that bad wounded if she saved her strength for herself. If she dies… I will kill him.' Her eyes brighten up with rage vindictiveness. She smiled rapidly and leaned back. 'My mother is the wisest person I know.' She stared at him. 'But she acted stupidly and I can not excuse any reason she would adduce. She acted foolishly to save a _man's_ life. What for? I don't know and I don't want to know. She is my hero and I love her, but she acted as a woman, not like an Amazon.'

She stared at him and stood up. Now there was some kind of feeling on his face. It was a mixture of admiration and revulsion. He detached his back from the armchair and put his palms in front of his lips. He followed the young woman moving through the room to the large window. She was in her red uniform; her hair was braid in a single plait, falling freely on her back. She was very young – maybe late teens. She was moving composedly and her face was modest but still militant. She was not that beautiful as Lady Antonia, but she was having some specific radiation so common with the young women at a certain Ankh-Morpork guild. While she was talking, he had the strange feeling he should not be so close to her.

He stood up and came nearer. She was looking through the window. Her face was silent. She felt him coming and turned. She had tears in her eyes. She moved away and bowed rapidly.

'I'm going there' she said hiding her eyes down. 'I'll see what happens.' She marched through the door.

Lord Vetinari stared long at her direction, then went to the invisible door, hidden behind his desk, tapped his pocket, pulled out a little key and put it into the unseen lock. The door closed silently behind him.

---

His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes didn't know what to do for first time in his life. He red the note for several times. Was it true? If it was, then where was his place now? By his sister's bed, or with Carrot? It was difficult decision.

On the first place, his sister was in a bad condition. Dr. Loan was precisely clear. The hard time was gone with the night. She survived, nevertheless of the bleeding. She had lost a lot of blood, but she was young and strong. She was an Amazon. No woman would survive; most of the men would be dead by the morning. However, she was still alive. She was stronger than any other in the room was. She would be all right. She just needed a time…

But Carrot…

It was the hardest moment of his life. Every single creature in Ankh-Morpork knew Carrot loved Angua. His love was different; it was hidden, but still deep. When the couple married, the city breathed freely. It was very hard to live near a man and a woman with such pangs of love. Those both were hard in explaining themselves. The decision they made was the right one in the right moment. What happened next was a history. The pregnancy came fast; they had no time to spend together. Now this… It was not fair…

Sam Vimes breathed out deeply. He knew what Carrot was feeling now. Six years ago, he was so close to lose Sybil… If Dr. Loan was no there, he would be a widower by now.

He put the note in his pocket and whispered in Sybil's ear. She looked at him sadly and nodded. He approached the door to his sister's bedroom, stood there for few seconds and moved back. His steps slapped down the stairs.

---

Madam Sarah went into Lord Stephen's room. The servant was sitting by his bed, reading a book aloud. She shuddered with the woman's appearance and rose in a hurry. Her face became reddish. She tried to hide the book, but considered differently.

'He likes when I read' explained the house cleaner. 'He says he likes my voice. I thought he would be happy if I read him some pages…'

Madam Sarah smiled in response. 'You did well. Go on, I will not be long.'

The servant, a girl beyond her eleven years, smiled and sat back. She opened the book again and red silently. 'Then it passed across the gap and for a minute was on the other side of the village…'

She had a beautiful voice. It was obvious why she was so fond of him. Every little girl wants to be some man's little girl. Madam Sarah removed the old packs from the patient's bedside table. The fever from the night was gone, he was breathing freely now. She stood by his bed for long time. Not because he was a good sight, but because of the voice the girl had. It was so calm… She listened the way she red the stupid book by a stupid author; she was so good, she made the words play in people's minds. They were actors in invisible matinee, broadcasted only in the imagination.

Sarah was on her way out when she heard the child's cry. She turned. She was sobbing; she thought she would see him dying. What she saw was quite different. The man opened his eyes. He was starring at the girl; the girl was starring him back in her silent hysteria. The woman jumped to his bed and leaned to his face.

'Are you feeling better?' she shouted. He blinked and breathed in hardly. 'Yes' he answered with difficulty. 'Where am I?' 'You are at the Embassy' answered Madam Sarah. He closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed and tried to speak again. 'Where is she?'

Sarah and the girl exchanged glances. 'She?'

'My wife' explained Lord Stephen. Madam Sarah breathed deeply. Poor man! He must have lost his conscious thinking that he was married already. How could he be so… Well, he must have been on a wedding or two in his life. He should know it needs more than a handclasp in a temple to wed.

'You are not married' answered the woman. Lord Stephen starred at her. 'What do you mean?' His eyes startled. 'I must be married.' Madam Sarah lifted her shoulders. 'What I know is that you are _not_ marries. You were hit in the middle of the ceremony. You lost conscious and your participation into that wedding ended.'

Lord Stephen gazed at her for a long time. He was in shock. Soon enough he came to his senses. 'When is the wedding? I have to become better by then.' Madam Sarah shook her head. She smiled rapidly, and then pressed his hand by her palm. 'There will be no other wedding for you' she answered. 'Not with _that_ woman.'

He wrinkled his forehead. 'What do you mean? Does it mean that…' He finally realized the obvious. 'Am I right… please don't try to tie me up, I am a grown person… Is it true what I am thinking, that… Lady Antonia already has a new surname… like… Vetinari…?' Sarah nodded. He exhaled.

The girl standing near, kneeled and cried: 'Master, don't be worry, you will be fine. You will be fine. _Just don't die_!'

She fell on the bed in tears, squeezing his hand. Lord Stephen starred at Madam Sarah's face, then tried to lift up and pulled the girl up. She looked at him. He rubbed her tears and tried to smile. She pressed his hand by her face and cried again. He starred at the ceiling and took a deep sigh. Madam Sarah moved to the exit slowly. She had to tell the news. King Petromus would not be happy. He wanted him dead.

---

It was dark when the Amazon woke up. She shivered and lifted up. The pain in her left made her frown. She looked down. The nightgown had a little red spot on it. She pressed the place with her hand. It was hot. She looked around. Bettina was sleeping in the chair by the bed. Lady Antonia smiled and stretched her hand to touch her but reconsidered. She was so peaceful and nice putting her head on the chair's arm. '_Better not to wake her up_', she thought. '_Let her sleep. Poor child_…'

She slipped off the bed, stood up, swayed and held the bedpost. Then she stepped further. The room was strange, unknown, but still a room – with double window, bed, armchair, wardrobe and door. She opened it and went out. The corridor was dark, empty and very large. There was a light at the end of it, which she followed. The candle light illuminated under the doorframe. She pressed the handle. There was a man sitting. He jumped from his ugly chair and came to support her.

'Milady' he scolded when putting her seated. 'You are still weak. Don't push yourself. Have rest. You need it.'

She fixed at his hand, still holding her arm. He removed it and drew back. She exhaled deeply. 'How long have I been in a swoon?'

He took his chair and sat by her side. 'Ten days, nine nights… almost…'

'So long?' She put her hand over her face. 'I saw Bettina by my bed.' He nodded. 'Which puts me to the next question: Where am I?' She starred at him. He delayed his answer. 'This is the Palace. My… Our home.' he replied finally, gazing at her reaction. There was none. She stood up. Made a few unsecured steps, repulsing his help, then her walk became regular. She moved to the large window and sat on its frame. The city was so beautiful at this time of night. So peaceful… She closed her eyes.

'So…' she whispered with a sigh. 'I am bounded… with you!'

He did not answer. She opened her eyes. The chimneys were throwing out their dark clouds. The guards at the palace gates were pacing slumberous. The roofs of the Unseen University were illuminating in their octarine shine. She closed her eyes again, pressed her face against the glass and groaned: 'So… Let it be…'

She repulsed from the window and made her way to the door. When she passed by the Patrician, she leaned over him and whispered: 'Don't push your luck, Sir. I may be your wife but am not your woman.'

Vetinari smiled at himself. She is indeed his wife – for good or for evil – but… Being a woman needs something more than being a female. He smiled again.

---

Lord Stephen had no luck. King Petromus was difficult man, but even he had a heart. After all, Lord Stephen was his best soldier. It was not his fault for being alive. He's been through many tough moments, but been an inch of death was something bigger. He passed the exam of life and that was most important. Who cares if he gets married? After all, he was alive, wasn't he? The woman was somebody else's and he could not contest that. Everyone signed the Treaty. If she was injured, then he had to marry her daughter. He would not be happy, but if he had to, then he had to. People should obey the contracts. It is a matter of honour.

King Petromus had to wake up very fast. He knew what would follow. Smaiil was looking at his direction. He had to react rapidly. Stephen must not be aloud to become more powerful. He was too dangerous by now. The last week his fame grew up much higher than he would aloud. There must be something done! The best way to do is to send him away from Smaiil for more than a year. People have the virtue to forget their heroes when they are not in their presence. He has to disappear. But how? Smaiil had no other enemies but Quart. A new war would shake his throne. The people of Smaiil were unambiguous enough.

The marriage was the best way to make Lord Stephen go away. The couple should live separately. Not in Quart and definitely not in Smaiil.

What to do? _What to do_?

Marriage… The best way was _that_ marriage! Hell with that failure assassin. _Ankh-Morpork has the best professionals_. The best assassins… Sheer nonsense! Where they are? They could not do a simple job. The agent he hired for the job assured him in the positive outcome of the task. Yet, those both were alive. And more than that. _She_ was bounded for _five years_ with the worst enemy he could ever have. Ankh-Morpork himself. The tyrant of the politics. The man he would not like to meet on the negotiation table. Or on the battlefield. Quart and Ankh-Morpork… How horrible…

King Petromus sighed with annoyance. He collected his thoughts slowly. He passed through the room, thinking. What would happen if… What would she say about… It was not in the contract, but… Would she be propitious to…

He rang the silver bell. The servant entered. 'Prepare my carriage. I will go shopping.'

The servant obeyed. King Petromus smoothed out the creases of his robe. Queen Balmola wouldn't be happy to see him; at least he could show a stile. A smaiilian way.

---


	8. Chapter 8

---

Eugene Spratt sat in darkness. Second week after the wedding… What would they do to him? Why didn't they kill him when they had that chance? He sat in his armchair, he didn't feel his hands - they were tied behind his back in unknown and unbreakable knot. He tried to ease it several times. No use…

What oppressed him was a question he had in his mind for all those eleven days. What would they do to him? When he was adducted from the Om's temple, someone hit his head; he lost consciousness. When he woke up, he was tied up in that basement. He waited for his verdict. The woman said she would interrogate him. However, where was she? What were they all waiting for? Why did no one violate him? He heard some stories according the Amazon's aggressiveness. When he was hit on the marble floor of the temple, he knew what would follow. He was prepared for it. He had summoned Death so many times, without having the opportunity to shake his bony hand personally. When would his time come?

Mr. Spratt tried to move his shoulders up, but the rope was too tide. There was some noise. He tried to turn his head. He didn't have the chance. Someone took the back of his head and pressed it slightly. Eugene's heart jumped. He held his breath. _No move, no move_! That was the only thought in his mind. He swallowed hardly and tried to lift his eyes to see. The person removed its hold. Eugene held his breath. He knew these fingers. They made a promise. The Amazon moved around him and stand at his front. Mr. Spratt buried his eyes into her. She was wearing a black dress in a strict cut, beginning under her chin and covering her polished leather shoes. She took off her frock coat and put it on the table nearby.

'Nice to see you, Mr. Spratt' welcomed the Amazon. She dragged the stool put aside and sat, facing his eyes. The assassin swallowed hardly. 'You have been well treat, I presume?'

He nodded rapidly. Well, it was true. He was held in captivity but that was the only crime he was under. The women acted normally. They took care of him; he was fed, clean and still alive. Although his body was fixed to the armchair he sat in, he was feeling quite well. Well enough, I presume, observing the odd situation he was put in.

Lady Antonia fixed her eyes at his. She tried to read what she could from there. _No use_, she thought. She knew well enough to reach the right conclusions. She had more than ten days to figure out the facts and compare them with her own theories. Keeping the man away from her enemies was a psychological act. People scare of what they cannot see. What scare them more is what they think happens when they are not around to witness. The imagination plays with people's minds. The guilty conscience does the rest.

More than five minutes passed in a silent looks exchange. Eugene was nervous and it was obvious why. He was so close to the final handclasp with THE bony hand. The Amazon's eyes were digging inside his brain. He tried not to shimmer; he had sporadic success. The woman in his front sighed deeply and moved in her stool.

'The Amazons are very affective when someone tries to take their life, Eugene. We are known as aggressive and vindictive tribe; nevertheless our civilization is tripling older than yours.' She stared at him again. 'The first thought I had about you was to kill you as soon as I find you useless.' The man tried to open his mouth, alas, no success. The Amazon put her hand on his knee. He stared there. Then she stood up. 'I already have the information I need. I could order your execution at once.' Eugene swallowed hardly again, moving his eyes after her walk. She paced through the room, putting her hands on her waist, head downwards. She cast about how to do with his future. The closest one. He tried not to make any noise, although he had the most desirable wish to slip down and beg in her feet.

'I have a small defect', continued Lady Antonia. 'I like making things differently than the other Amazons. Like… forgiving and… saving life…' She lifted her hand to her forehead. 'I still think you are useful' she added. 'I may consider your life necessary in some circumstances, of course.'

She sat at her stool again. Her eyes fixed at his. She stared him long enough to make him follow. 'I have a job for you, Mr. Eugene Spratt, 23 Blueberry alleys, The Dolls, Ankh-Morpork.'

Eugene Spratt blinked in surprise.

A job? For him? A _real_ job? A job of _his_? He nodded slowly. She stared again. 'I don't know how you take the orders… Do I have to pronounce the name or to write it?' Her face darkened. Eugene was still silent. His voice hid in his stomach. He made a face showing that both ways were common. She smiled in reply, took a paper from her frock coat's pocket, and put it in his lap. Then she extracted a knife from somewhere and cut the rope. The assassin moved freely, rubbed his wrists and bend down to lift the paper fallen in his feet.

The Amazon reached for her coat. At the door, she stopped and turned to his astonished face again. 'You will be paid well. I guess you were paid three hundred thousand dollars for my contract. I suggest doubling would be enough. Six hundred thousand dollars for each. I need no speed – I know where your weakness is. I want it look like an accident. Both times.'

She turned her back and pressed the door handle.

'Madam!' The Amazon faced the man in a reply. He was coming nearer. 'I know what I want, Mr. Spratt' answered Lady Antonia to his asking eyes. 'I want them both dead. I don't care the time, nor the place, neither the circumstances you will deliver the job. I want them dead as soon as possible. I am paying a lot of money for your services, Mr. Spratt. Please, spare me the moral admonition. You are too late. And you are not the right person.'

She turned back and opened the door. Eugene saw the severe face of the other Amazon in the open. Lady Antonia bowed her head while closing the door. 'Do the job, Mr. Spratt. Be my _friend_. The opposite is much fearful, believe me.'

---

The Pseudopolis Yard Head Office of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch was loud at this time of the day. Sergeant Collon, sitting in his usual place behind the elevated desk as the door, tried not to mention the crowd pacing around. He was busy enough - picking his fingernails for instance, legs up. Nobby sat nearby, observing the movement with no interest. Those both were on the edge. When Captain Carrot was not around, the office had the strange tendency to become noisy, messy and panicked. They all were at the funeral. Carrot's face was unknown. They never used to see him like that. If he weren't, then they would be much more worried.

Angua's death came in surprise. Who would believe that a werewolf would die in a birth…? All the information they had was obviously not correct. Werewolves were mortal after all. So, silver was not the only way to kill those creatures… The crime society was on its guard. Angua wasn't most loved person in the city, but being Captain Carrot's wife moved her to other direction. Some people, manifesting their hostility against the undeads in Ankh-Morpork, soon after the wedding had to change their minds. No one wanted to offend Captain Carrot. When the news of her death came aloud, the city fell into an organized panic. The undead society told in so many words that they would not tolerate any useless statements against any of their members. Angua's death was untimely and unexpected. Childbirth… Twins… It was rare among the werewolves, but sometimes, maybe once in several hundred years, it happened. It looks like giving birth of twins was deadly enough to be undesired.

Sergeant Collon looked at the door opening. He jumped from his seat and saluted. Nobby followed. The noise calmed. Dozens of eyes stared at the Amazons, following Lady Antonia. She stood in front of Collon's reddish face and smiled: 'Is my brother here?' Fred nodded. She looked up the stairs where the offices were. She said something inarticulate to the rest of the troop. They obeyed and moved outside. She took the steps up. Bettina followed.

Commander Vimes was not in a mood. Angua's funeral unstrung his nerves. It was not easy. He had never seen Carrot so distressed. He saw the babies later; they were so looking like Angua. No wonder Carrot insisted for a leave. Vimes never hid his misunderstanding about Carrot's point of view, but that was too much. His will to raise the boys by himself was stupid. The babies need a woman to take care of them. He also. Angua was dead and buried ten days earlier, yes, Carrot needed his mourning, but that was… How could he be able to race the boys by himself? Especially in this particular age… With his work schedule? Who will take care of him when he gets ill, or if anything happens?

Vimes lifted up to answer the door knock. That must be Fred again – checking how he was feeling. Again. Carrot was not enough. Vimes was next. Thanks Gods his door was not guarded by his own watchmen. Poor Carrot…

Lady Antonia faced him. Sam Vimes cried out in surprise. The last time he saw her, she was in her bed in the Palace. He let her in, kissing her hand. Bettina smiled behind and arched her eyebrows. There was no way to take her hand, it was obvious. They seated.

Vimes was nervous. He was facing his sister, yes, but furthermore, he was facing his employer's wife. Lady Antonia de Constar-Vetinari. He did not know how to react. She was the same, but still… Antonia moved forward. 'I've just met the man.' She looked at him. He had nothing on his face. Yes, he knew who she was talking about. He expected to hear something more. For instance where she had buried the body. She red his thoughts and replied rapidly. 'I want to tell you he is feeling fine, he is still alive, don't worry, I will never throw mud at our family.' She turned to Bettina's face. She was seating calmly. Antonia continued. 'I want to tell you before you knew it from somewhere else…' She bite her lips. 'I put him under contract.'

'You did what?' Vimes stared and stood up in a rage. 'Have you lost your mind?' She exhaled deeply. It was expected. His reaction was so like… Vimes. She smiled at him. 'I did it because I have reasons to believe that my life is in danger. Even more, my family could be endangered too. I cannot aloud more risk. I have my reasons. Please, don't oppose me, Sam.'

She nailed her stare at him. He watched at her for long time. It was not easy. They both had the Vimes look; someone should win in the staring game, but whom? In some minutes, the Commander of the Watch sighed deeply and closed his eyes with a hand. 'Do you have enough money?' he asked. She nodded. 'I am wealthy enough to inhume the best half of the city' she answered. 'But thank you for the support. I appreciate that, Sam.' She moved up, followed by her adopted daughter. Her lips pressed his cheek; she squeezed his hand and went to the door.

'I will see you tomorrow.' Said Antonia. Vimes blinked for a second. 'Did I miss something?' The Amazon smiled in a brief. 'I went to see Sybil first. She invited us at a dinner tomorrow evening, Sam.' Vimes knit his eyebrows. Dinner. Tomorrow. Evening. What a waist… Well… Antonia was fine. She was his sister; although they knew each other for a month. But she said 'us' which meant _He_ would come too. He had to stand his unruffled calmness, his blue stare, his _clever_ notes… Nightmare!

The worst thing someone would wish for his sister is to marry someone like His Lordship. What a life she would have? He was working all the time, he rarely ate, never drunk alcoholic drinks -- well, nothing stronger than a cup of wine or cognac. He had no sense of humour, at least one everyone could understand.

Sam Vimes wrinkled his face in return. The Amazon burst with laughter. Bettina followed her through the door. Her giggling voice continued through the corridor and down the stairs.

---

The first thing Mr. Spratt did after been removed from his captivity was visiting Dr. Downey's office. The Head assassin was impressed. So, the Amazon became a contractor of the Guild. One million and twenty thousand dollars… That was a big hit, indeed. The objects were unknown. Mr. Spratt declined to tell their names. Well, it was his right, after all. It was in the Guilds by-laws. He had to obey. One million and more… That was such a success. The Council would be more than satisfied. He gave his blessing, he had no other choice. One million… contracted by the city's newest celebrity…

---

Bettina went into the Embassy. It was raining outside, her feet were muddy and her skirts were wet and heavy. Leather becomes much weighty when being watered. She unbuttoned her coat and put it aside. Lady Astral showed her face through the open of the parlour door. She was not surprised. After all Bettina was an Amazon. What happens between couples was something all Amazons kept away. Nevertheless if they are bounded in love affair or a political treaty. It was about time for Bettina to take the right actions.

She leaned back in her cosy armchair. She was tired already. She had a long conversation with queen Balmola this afternoon. There were things happening to the city she could never understand. She was too old and too tired to do her job. She stated her decision to retire. No one could change her mind. Queen Balmola was very angry and worried. However, she knew her cousin well enough to reconsider her veto. Lady Astral lived in Ankh-Morpork longer than anyone did in her position. Coming to the big city for a week or a month was different from living here for fifteen years. She had to admit that every affair has its end. In addition, she did state her wish. She miffed for a couple of hours, but then she realized that it would not be successful on to Lady Astral. She received her retirement. The problem was: who is going to be the next Ambassador? It was a tough decision. The only person she would entrust the position was not available. Moreover, if she _ever_ asked her anything she would definitely refuse. She did enough for the motherland.

Lady Astral sighed in satisfaction. Soon she would be by her peach trees. How long had passed since her last visit to Quart? The trees were still there; well, quite grown, actually, green leafed and shady. What staid between her and her gardens, was the position she should cover before she left. She heard Bettina's steps upstairs and smiled. She was a woman with fascination findings. She knew people when she first met them. The young De Constar was a rare find. She was clever enough to put her mouth shut and her eyes wide open. She would be a good hit. What she knew best was that Bettina had her weakness – she was too fond of her adoptive mother. She knew that she would not progress without her in Quart. She would go anywhere after Lady Antonia, even in hell, if there was such place.

Maybe that would be helpful for them both. For the old woman it would be a faster chance to go home. For the young girl it would be a possibility for a carrier geographically close to the only person she had in her life. There were two questions: Would Balmola take her nomination? Bettina was too young to be an Ambassador. She wasn't real Amazon yet. What would the queen do? She would have some thoughts. At the first place, De Constars would be far away from her sight. This is what she wanted from the beginning – to get rid of them by the only acceptable way excluding the war. Lady Antonia was her only competition, she felt endangered and unstable when she heard her name pronounced. She knew she was better, stronger and younger than she was. The only chance to keep the throne into the family was to get rid of her. Bettina was too young to be any competition, but she was skilful enough to follow the example.

Lady Astral sighed again and lifted the tea cup.

The other problem was The Tulip. She had always had too much power, especially now, when she was Lord Havelock Vetinari's wife. Well, wife was too much to say, but technically she was bound with him and this is what the world knew. And… what the world knows is more important than the truth itself. And Lady Astral was sure that The Tulip knew Bettina was a good choice Quart could use. If she was a little bit more elderly…

What she didn't know was that queen Balmola had her self thoughts about it.

---

The dining room at the Palace was a wide hall at the second floor. There was other dining hall at the prime floor, but it was used rarely, it was closed most of the times. The dining table was too huge for a single man. It is never pleasant to sit on a table for seventy persons if you are by yourself. The second floor dining table was much smaller, for thirty persons only and still rarely used. Since the Amazon came to the Palace, the Patrician ordered its reopening. The Palace housekeeper obeyed immediately. She was still wandering why His Lordship would do something like that. The dishes were served at the opposite ends of the table. While Lady Vetinari was in bed, Lord Vetinari used to sit at his end, no one at the other. Mrs. Smith was startled. His Lordship never dined outside the Oblong office or his chambers.

Lady Antonia tried not to look at the end of the dining table. She was served a chicken with steamed vegetables, as she ordered. Lord Vetinari's face showed here and there though the fruit cascades and the large silver candlesticks. They ate in silence.

'I heard you have met the young assassin today' said the Patrician when the servants removed the dishes. 'I also heard he is still alive. Amazing, isn't it?'

Antonia looked up. He was staring at her. She stood up. The servant moved away with the next plate. The Amazon's gesture was expressive – it was enough. She moved to his end of the table and put some sheets on the table. 'This is the report. I know you like reading this kind of stuff. It has all the information you might need.' She passed through, entering the parlour. Lord Vetinari looked at the papers and smiled. He sent away the servant with the desert and stood up too.

The parlour was a nice cosy room with a large fireplace and wide-open windows. Lady Antonia was sitting in an armchair by one of them. She was reading.

Lord Vetinari recognized the book. He red it once. Quite interesting study, observing the minor political issues over the big policy. 'I didn't know you are interested in this subject.' He pointed at her hands. She looked up at him, and then put her eyes back. 'I am interested in any subject that could give me some knowledge, sir' she answered. 'Last month I red a book of the modern embroider techniques.' He sat at her front.

'Did you learn how to embroider then?'

She stared at him with interest. 'Of course I did. I embroider since I was five.' He observed her reading some more minutes. Then he moved up and opened the door, leading to the musical room. He stood there for a long time, until the Amazon put her eyes on him. 'You want to tell me something?' she asked. Vetinari lifted his hand, pointing inside. 'I would like to show you this. I guess you would like it.'

She stared at him for a while, and then she put the book aside and stood up. Vetinari went in first. She followed slowly.

'I saw a book your daughter brought with your luggage. I thought some practice would do well.'

The room was full with any musical instruments you would imagine. There was a large black grand piano, a smaller one at the other side of the room, some cellos, violins, oboes, and horns, a wall with bigger and smaller flutes and pipes. And a huge harp in the middle of the room.

Lady Antonia sighed with pleasure and drew nearer. She put her worshipping fingers all along its surface, incrusted with small fake gems. She dragged a stool and sat. Her fingers fondled the strings. They were so delicate. She pulled gently and the harp leaned on her shoulder. She put her head on it, still caressing. She touched the strings. Her eyes closed. The music filled up the room. Vetinari observed with interest. He still stood at the door. He felt he should not stay there. What he saw was a moment of intimacy he had no right to witness. He forced himself to walk away. His pace was not far. He sat at the parlour and closed his eyes for a second. The sounds coming from the other room were pleasant and relaxing. He took the papers he was given and red. Thanks Gods she had no chance to see his expression.

When he opened his eyes half hour later, she went out staggering. She moved to his direction, kneeled and stared with gentle look. 'Thank you' she pronounced tenderly and moved up the stairs.

He remained in his armchair, exhausted and excited enough to reconsider moving up too. He put his head in his palm and whispered: 'Thank _you_…'

---

King Petromus was in anger. He paced the length of his room. How could she refuse him? How dares she? Queen Balmola was too blind, how couldn't she see what he saw? The meeting in Quart's embassy was short enough to make him reconsider the possibility of war prolongation. The old bat rejected all his proposals, nevertheless how sincere and penetrating they were.

He was in rage because his plans failed. He wanted Stephen out of Smaiil. Now he had no chance than take other measures…

Queen Balmola concealed a lot in their conversation. He knew what she wanted to say, nevertheless her attempt to hide it, he felt it. Her haughtiness, her supercilious behaviour… She desired to show him he was no more wanted. She had her task done. The Treaty had been executed, the parties were gathered. She was happy. Well, it was not smaiilian involved, but who cares? She has something more. She has Ankh-Morpork. An ally no one would omit and ignore. Mr. Ankh-Morpork himself.

She knew His Lordship was not happy with the progress, neither the Tulip was. But who cares what they think? She had her part done. The smaiilian was not necessary any more. She would have regret if the Tulip get married Lord Stephen. He was a spineless fool, too proud with his failing war carrier. Seventeen battles and nine wins. What a loser…

King Petromus was worried, he didn't have other choice. He had to resort to the back-up plan. It would be a disgrace if it fails, but he had no other opportunity. His power was shaking. Stephen had to obey.

---


	9. The Final

---

Bettina moved to her side of the bed. She exhaled loudly, sighed with satisfaction and relaxed on the cushion. Her lover rolled to kiss her. He did not expect it all in first place. Earlier in the evening, he went to bed expecting to sleep, not imagining finding someone there. She waited for him, her clothes off; wrapped with the soft Hershebian blanket he bought some weeks ago. She stood up on the mattress, moved to her feet and did some things he never expected to be done to him ever. He had many lovers in his life, but she was… Oh, she was the jewel in his collection. How could she have so many skills? She was so young…

He made love to her as never before, because he never had someone like her in his bed. Few hours later, he was breathless, he was forceless - she squeezed every drop of his body. Every drop of his sap… She made love like a libertine. She made love like a queen. A lecherous queen. He went to sleep, caressing her back, pressing her to his exhausted sweaty body, kissing her neck, her shoulder, her hands… She put her head on his breast, which was a sign of a full unity – in body and in soul. He had never imagined he would spend a night with such skilful _Woman_.

Bettina felt his breath calmer, his eyes dropping in a sleep. He was fatigued and she was the cause of his failing. She was prepared for this. She had a good educator - while she was an adolescent, her godmother – a woman with well-known practice – told her some strategic tips appropriate for the love game. She personally experienced them when she was sixteen, secretly giving herself up to a man she chose herself. He was not too young – she wanted a man, not a boy. Her mother was rabid; she did not talk to her for weeks. However, she had that experience, because she knew it would be important part of their future. She knew she had to make great sacrifice to obtain the end - she promised it to the Goddess, when she was a little girl. Better to sacrifice her virginity, than something she cannot live without.

She looked at her lover's face again. He was fast asleep. She smiled. _Godmother was right_, she thought, _better to press out all his potency; he would be more than obliged. He would want for More. However, to receive that he had to Beg for it. He had to Merit it. He had to Earn it…_

She rolled gently to the bed's end and slid down. She searched for her clothes, dressed in a hurry and rushed to the door. She turned back to see him and smiled. He was sleeping like a baby. A big lewd baby. She examined his body again. He was handsome, yes, he was… He made her feel a woman again. He knew how to make her cry in excitement.

She sighed with satisfaction and pressed the door handle. Lord Stephen twisted to her side of the bed in his sleep. Her plan was put into action. The door closed.

---

The dinner at the Vimes-Ramkin estate should start at seven, so Lady Antonia was in a hurry. She dressed her blue dress; the one Lord Vetinari presented her the same day. She was surprised, it was his first gift, unexpected and… well… she would not admit it, but she loved it. The package was on her bed when she went in her chambers. It was wrapped in green packing paper, tied with yellow band. She saw him earlier in order to tell him the last news, asking for his reply. He did not say anything. She was sure he already knew all the details, but he looked less interested than she thought. He did not allude to a present. What for? What did she do to deserve the dress? It was beautiful and, observing the fabric, quite expensive.

She let the chambermaid fasten her corset, it pressed her far tighter than she used to, but she could still breathe and that was the most important. The skirt was as light as a feather; it failed on her skin as nothing gentler she had the chance to ware before. She felt some kind… differently. The maid fastened the band on her slender waist and smiled with satisfaction. Her face was so pleased, which made Antonia walk closer to the mirror. Yes, she was nice; her hair was down, dropping on her shoulders, accurately tied on her neck scruff with an elegant emerald hairpin. She never used lipstick or any cosmetics, as far as she was educated, they were unnecessary tools, colouring her skin in false shades. When the maid came to help her prepare she proposed her some, they were put in several white and red bottles, their smell made her cough. The maid said it would make her even more beautiful. She refused. Then she changed her mind. What she saw in the mirror was she again, but coloured. She sighed with boredom.

Lord Vetinari waited in the hallway. He knew what time it was – the clock ticked nearby. The carriage should go through the evening crowd, stopping repeatedly for the tedious traffic, the bridge would be too crowdie because of the new speed limits the Transportation department of the Watch had put several weeks ago. It always happens so. If they wanted to be at the Vimes-Ramkin estate in time, she should appear in… let us see… seven seconds.

He sighed and turned his head to the clock, then to the stairway. He tottered back, speechless. Lady Antonia passed through in a hurry. 'Shall we go?' she hinted, allowing him lead her to the coach. He helped her lift then he sat by her side, gently sealing the door. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for a second, exhaling with a boredom. She pressed his hand with an amiable gesture and whispered, fondling her dress: 'Thank you. So kind of you. I did not expect it.' She smiled at his stare and sighed, gazing into her window. Lord Vetinari leaned back and stared at his. 'I did not have a chance to give you my… uhum… wedding present' he answered, looking at the dispersing crowd, while the carriage was leaving the Palace gates. She smiled at him and tapped his hand again. He removed it from her reach and stared at her face. She blinked for a while, she had her attention gone. They travelled in silence until the yellowish frontage of the Scoon Avenue's most wanted real estate appeared at the distance.

---

Young Sam Vimes rushed into Antonia's hands.

'What does my little boy do?' hugged him the Amazon. He giggled in her tickling hands.

'Auntie, I am so happy to see you' laughed the boy. 'Why didn't you come to live with us?' His miffing face stared at the Patrician, observing their gathering with less interest than watching the rain. He stared at the boy. 'Is this because of him?' Little Sam pointed at Vetinari. 'Mom told me you got married. What for? Whom?' He pointed again. 'Is that him?' He miffed again. 'Dad used to say His Lordship is the permanent bachelor on the Disk. What did you do to deserve him?

Antonia burst into laughter. She stood up and glanced at the Patrician. He had no expression on his face. He gazed at the boy, who gazed at him in that way, saying: '_Don't make me, stupid! Just don't make me use it!_' The Amazon turned his face at her and bent to face his eyes.

'Sam, how many times have I told you not to use these words against people?' The boy stared at her and bowed his head. 'Yes, yes…' Sam Jr. turned his eyes. '…Flatter them, not show them what you feel…'

'So, Sam, what do you think you should do now?' The boy stared at her, then looked at Vetinari's direction, bowed his head and pronounced slowly with a graduate voice: 'I beg your pardon, Sir. Please, accept my apology.' He bowed again and took Antonia's hand. They walked in silence through the hallway's opposite door. When they entered the parlour, Sam whispered in her ear. 'I still believe you waist your time with him.' Lord Vetinari smiled rapidly. Lady Antonia ruffled his hair. The boy sat in his chair close to her and whispered again: 'If you love him, then I should recommend you to get rid of your feelings. Dad said he is not worthy.'

Antonia looked at Vetinari's face. She knew he heard it all; although he had no expression as such. She felt her face redden, she put her hand on little Sam's head and twisted his eyes to hers. She whispered in his ear: 'Don't push your luck, young man. He might be your… uncle, but still is the Patrician. And I am also an Amazon, dear; don't forget who _you_ are.'

The boy giggled at her threat, jumped from his seat and run across the room. When he run back, he put a paper in her hands. Antonia looked at him, asking for explanation. He jumped back in his chair and pointed the note:

'Cousin Bettina was here this morning. She asked mom to use her room for a minute. When she went out this thing fell out of her pocket. I thought you would see her before me, so I'm transferring you the pleasure.'

Vetinari observed Lady Antonia's face with interest. She unfolded the paper and started reading. Her eyes opened widely, she stood up in a hurry, almost jumping in the air. Her face was pale; her breath speeded; her lips became white, although the lipstick she put on. Her eyes watered, she turned her back to them, folded the paper and put it in her pocket. When she turned to them, she was smiling, although her eyes were wistful. She sat at her place.

'Won't you treat as, Sam? After all we are your guests.'

'Yes! Of course!' jumped little Sam. 'Blast! Mom told me when you come to tell her at once. Dad is still in the Yard. He should be here any minute! Oh, mom will be so…' He went out of the parlour, rushing upstairs. Antonia turned to Vetinari. She tried to smile; he tried to pretend she succeeded. 'I am sorry for my nephew's behaviour, sir. I hope you would understand him.'

'Yes, I would if I was a six year old boy with no respect of the elders.' Said Vetinari. Antonia moved closer. 'He is just a genuine boy; you can't make the world think as you do.'

'I can try.'

'And will fail.'

She smiled at his bewildered air, and then she pressed his hand. 'The world alters, Milord, time goes by, and people change. Get used to it. You are still young, you have time and chance to accept the changes you are to meet, don't waist your time fighting with the universe opposing your personal world. You will not succeed, I guarantee it. Do yourself a favour. Relax and have fun.'

She stood up and walked to the door, opened it and tried to exit, when she extracted the paper in her pocket. She red again, then she leaned against the door, certain in her intimacy. Lord Vetinari lifted slowly from his seat. He saw a strange reflection in the salver, resit on the wall over the heather. She was crying.

---

Bettina received the note. She rushed to the Palace. It was dark when she entered Lady Antonia's boudoir. She was brushing her hair in silence. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she stood up, came closer and slapped her face.

'How dare you!' cried the Amazon. 'How dare you? Who is he?'

Bettina stood silent, holding her reddish cheek. Antonia paced nervously around her. 'Answer, Bettina!' The young woman raised her head. She had tears in her eyes. Antonia stared at her for long time, and then she pressed her in a tight hug. 'Forgive me, my child. I am so sorry. I know you would not do this if you had other choice. Forgive me.'

Bettina answered the hug. 'I am sorry, mother' she said weeping. 'I thought I should forestall the events.'

'Which events, child?'

Bettina anxiously sat in the chair nearby. She was nervous, pressing her hands together. 'I heard Her Majesty talking with King Petromus. He wanted to get rid of Vetinari to fulfil the Treaty as it should be. He said the marriage was illegal. He wanted to ask her to annul the contract with the Patrician.'

Lady Antonia stared at her. She wiped her tears. 'You are not safe with him, mother. You should stay here; if you go to Smaiil they will kill you.'

Lady Vetinari buried her head in her hands. 'What do you think I am – blind and deft, Bettina? I knew it from the beginning, child. That's why I spin so long. I needed a time to make my plan into action. What the assassin did was a bonus. If he did not shoot him, I had to manage his execution myself.' She took the girls shoulders and shook her. 'What did you do, Bettina? Do you know what you did?' She stepped out of her reach, with her hands on her waist. 'If the man you gathered is the one I think, than _even_ _I _can not safe you, Bettina. When you became his mistress, you became the woman, probably carrying his semen. How could I help you now? The Smaiil law is precise: if the man insists the woman - probably carrying his child - to marry him, even her parents could not save her… How did you…? Oh, Bettina… My baby…'

She put her hands over her eyes. Bettina jumped to soothe her. Lady Antonia drew back. She went to the window, pressed her forehead to the glass and sighed deeply. Bettina followed at some distance. She was ashamed enough to keep her eyes away from her sight.

'Why did you think I passed through this all?' she whispered. 'Do you really think I wanted to marry _that_ man? Do you know how depressed I feel when I wake up each morning, knowing he will be there? Do you know how hard it is to smile at him? Do you think I am born hypocrite? I am not. I thought he would be disappointed and ask for a divorce sooner than those five years. Do you know what he did today? Gave me his _wedding present_. A _dress_, Bettina. Do you know what it means? He wants to make love with me… Presenting a woman a dress… Why don't men reed books? Why don't they know what these things mean?'

Lady Antonia moved to her daughter, put her hands over her neck and hugged her tight for a long time. When they separated, she kneeled down and put a head over her stomach. Bettina looked at her in a smile. 'I am not' she said. 'Yet.'

'Be cautious, Bettina. If he ever suspects you have his child, you will be doomed.'

Bettina smiled and lofted her eyebrows. 'What do you think I _do_, mother?' Lady Antonia gazed at her. She stepped back in anger. 'I had my little plan in action, mother' said Bettina. 'To make him have _his_ Amazon. He would leave you alone. The King will have his Treaty done, he will have his victim, and it would not be _You_, mother… It would be… _me_.'

'Bettina!'

'No, mother' shouted the young Amazon and stepped back. 'I know what I am doing. I will be his, mother, but he would have to do some things in return.'

'Bettina, you are out of your senses!'

'No, mother, I told you already. I am clearly sane. I will be his wife, but he has to be more than a husband.'

Lady Antonia stared at her for longer than before. She bit her lips, turned over and sat at her writing table. She took the quill and penned in a hurry. When she finished she folded the paper and gave it to Bettina. She took it, considered to read it, but instead put it in her pocket.

'Do me a favour, deliver it to this address.' She put another note in her hand. The young Amazon fixed her eyes at her, and then she turned and walked to the door.

'I know what you want, Bettina' tiredly murmured Lady Antonia. 'I will give it to you. If everything goes right, you will be a very happy woman.'

---

Lord Vetinari moved out of his hiding place. So… the Amazons were in action. What kind of action - he didn't know by now, but he had many skilful agents in the city. They would smell a rat if there was some.

He went out of the darkness. Young Bettina and Lord Stephen… That's why she was so anxious during the dinner in Vimes-Ramkin house… Well, well, well… Those were fresh news. The way Lady Antonia reacted the situation was odd. She was too excited. Too… How was the word? Yes, motherish… The words she said about them living together were not very polite, but she had the right. She was not here willingly. He also had to stand her presence. She was not the best wife he would have. Well, she was quite pretty, and her presence coloured the Palace in unexpected light. He caught himself several times smiling while she was around. However, he used to smile before… Some times… Rarely…

Moreover, she said those allegations about his wedding present… Why did she think giving a woman a dress by all means would be taken as a sexual invitation? Well… he never thought about it before, meaning, he never had to present anything to his wife. Because he never had one. How would he know the dress means so equivocal?... Well, if he should be genuine, he had nothing against a future…

He slipped into his chambers with reddish face.

---

Bettina crossed the passage in silent move and burst into Lord Stephen's chamber. He waited for her. He stood up to welcome her, pressing a deep kiss in her lips. She relaxed in his hands. He lifted her up and put her on the bed, unbuttoning her coat, taking off her breastplate, her leather skirts, her red top. The steel cracked on the floor. She folded in her arms over his neck.

'I waited for you' he whispered in her ear, caressing her naked body. 'What delayed you so long?'

She moaned and let him lift her thighs, easing himself more comfortably over her waiting body. She bit his ear with satisfaction and groaned: 'You have me. Take me all. I am yours.'

He made his way into her and murmured. She sighed in his ear. He pushed and waited for her reaction. She looked at him in lust, watching him moving forward and backward, caressing her breasts, kissing her neck, breathing with difficulty and passion. She watched him with satisfaction, her hands tight fitting into the pillow edges. Her legs lifted higher and fixed around his moving body, closing him in her perimeter for as long as she wanted him. Soon his moans became louder, his pace vehement, and his movement unexpectedly rapid. She yelled with pleasure, letting him lead her to her end. He groaned soundly and relaxed over her body, trembling and shaking, breathing exhaustedly. He moved little more and stopped, putting his head over her breasts. He moistened her skin with his lips, removed his hands from the fixed position they were and tried to move up. She pressed his body to her with her crossed legs. 'Stay!' she cried. He obeyed, putting his adoring eyes over her face, staring at her for long time. She ogled him back with her genuine satisfaction, making him shimmer with desire. He kissed her deeply, hardly and long. He relaxed for a minute, then he caressed her, beginning his pace again. She moaned and answered his kiss.

Early in the morning, Lord Stephen leaned on the pillow, busy with the most pleasant job he had ever had – observing his mistress's sleep. She was quiet, reclining by his naked body, putting her palms under her head. What a picture, he thought, watching the woman, making him most pleased ever, in a relaxed sleep. She made him shimmer from the first time he saw her. She was still a teenager then, his future wife's daughter, far from the woman he made love with. When they danced, she put her hands over his shoulders the way that made him try to hide his front. She had the spirit of a seamstress, although she was not one. She made him wish he were not there, even in the area. She had the strange radiance the men receive by a way unknown for them all, but obeying her gravity. If he would ever know she would become his mistress, he would never believe. No one believes in the fiction.

He watched her moving in their bed, stretching herself, turning her head, opening her eyes. She fixed her sleepy watch at his worshiping face. She smiled at him, receiving his smile back. He watched her longer and staring, his face became earnest, he took her hand and put it on his breast. She watched him with interest. It was the fifth week since she started spending her nights in his bed. She pretended to know each inch of his body, each way his eyes stared at her, each tic of his mouth. He never held her hand so tight, he never looked at her with such daring and finality. He lifted her hand to his lips. She shimmered. His eyes fixed at hers, he bend over her and whispered:

'Bettina de Constar, would you do me the favour answering my question?'

She smiled anxiously. He pressed her hand with his lips.

'Would you consider making me an honest man, by giving me your hand and… marry me?'

---

The death of King Petromus was surprising, although he was a man with a lot of antagonism in his life. The heart attack was expected, actually, especially observing his way of life. He never ate something different from his most beloved fat hog chops, presenting himself as a smaiilian with soul and heart. Well, the heart had something to say and it did. His Majesty was found in his bed, early in the morning, in his Palace, when his attendant went to wake him up. He used to complain with a chest pain weeks ago, but nevertheless the doctor's insistence, he refused to listen. Although he was in Smaiil, he still thought he had to observe the doings in the city. Especially the one he thought as the most important task in his life. He could not brake Lord Stephen declare his protest against the marriage of Lady Antonia and Lord Vetinari. Stephen withstood all his persuasions, insults and threats. He fought against his will, with rage energy he never used to observe in his behaviour earlier. He fought as he had something to fight for. He had, indeed, as time showed. The only alternative was to make him stay in Ankh-Morpork as the newest war attaché of Smaiil. It was his penalty for marrying the _wrong_ Amazon.

The news of his death came to Ankh-Morpork when the servants handed out the morning tea. His Lordship drank yellow Hershebian for breakfast, Her Ladyship preferred red Stomanian, which was the best choice for His Lordship's afternoon tea brake. The couple laughed at the morning newspapers, where Otto Crieck, the gifted vampire-photographer of the 'Gazette' put a shot of Lord Downey's slipping at the Bronze Bridge. He had to be lift from the river in a rush, although the Ankh's crust was tight enough to resist an elephant. But there is a rage stage people could not stand.

'Listen to this' smiled Lady Antonia. '_Dr. Downey (49) slipped at a banana peel late yesterday evening while returning home from audience with the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, His Lordship Lord Vetinari and Her Ladyship, Lady Antonia Vetinari, discussing important matters accorded with the city's being…_ Listen, Havelock, that was too much. I think you should talk to Mr. De Worde and advise him to change his sources. People will read this article and jump at conclusions that Mr. Downey has a role over the city rule. This is not true. If complaining of a carriage clamp by his Guild's building by Mr. Collon's department is a management act, so I should say I do much more such acts while composing the meal menu each day.'

'And you are very good at it, Milady' answered Lord Vetinari and pressed a kiss on her hand. 'This reminds me that soon we will have a year anniversary. We have to assemble some guests; so sorry Bettina would not come to Ankh-Morpork.'

'Yes, Havelock, she sends her regards in her last letter, says she would send us some presents. She rests at Stephen's domain near Quirm, remember? She has to keep her strength. The delivery will come soon, I promised to be there when it happens.'

Lord Vetinari exhaled profoundly. He remembered some months ago the births with Sybil. She was on the edge, while Dr. Loan urged to Pseudopolis, helping against the dreadful yellow fever. Sybil was in Death's door when Antonia came to help. She was a good nurse, using her special power to deliver the baby and to keep the mother's life. He still remembered Commander's face when the door opened and his sister came out to tell him the news. There was a shock on his face, such horror he had never seen in his life. Antonia rushed to hug her brother, whose eyes watered, expecting to meet the sorrowful reality. Then she smiled and congratulated him with the newest member of the family. It was a boy again. Sir Jonathan Vimes, an heir apparent of the Old Stoneface Jonathan Vimes. Then… she looked at him with _that_ look. She never used to gaze him with such softness and delicacy. She smiled happily and put her head on Sam Vimes's shoulder.

Then the change began. She tried to be more yielding in her relation with her husband, accepting his presence at last. They played chess, they went on small voyages with the carriage, she even told him how to use a Quart crossbow when the Quart cultural week was at its end and she was free enough to turn any attention at him. He was embarrassed. She showed him she wanted his company, but she never made him feel she wanted something more.

'Of course you have to go, Milady' answered Lord Vetinari, sipping his tea. 'I would be waiting for the news from the clacks. And I will be keeping my fingers crossed.'

'Thank you, Havelock', she smiled at him in reply. Then she stared at him with a gentle look and bit her lips. 'By the way, may I ask you something personal?' He turned his outgoing attention to listen 'Why do you still call me Milady? I name you properly.'

He thought for a while and opened his mouth to answer, but then the servant put a salver in his reach. 'A message for you, Sir.' Vetinari opened the envelope and extracted the paper.

'My dear, King Petromus is dead.'

The Amazon stood rapidly and took the note from his hold. 'Gods! He is really… dead…'

'I guess you will be happy now?'

She put her eyes on his blue stare. He did not even blink. She stood up, then she started pacing through the room in a mixture of anxious and anger. His watch followed her through. She observed him for a minute, than she stopped at his front and sighed: 'How long do you know it?' He relaxed in his chair. 'Long enough to have the gallery reserved. I was introduced with the facts, I know every detail, according your actions, my dear. Especially the whole thing connected with Queen Balmola's accident. Yes, I know, but this is the official. After all, eating sward fish is not very harmless, especially when is served with a _special_ yoghourt souse. I should admit, Mr. Sprat is very skilful assassin.'

She paced anxiously, her head down, thinking. She went to his front again and fixed her eyes on his following gaze. She winkled her face. 'What do you intend to do?' He sighed and stood up, coming closer. 'I intend to see what happens. I also intend to go to the funeral if my presence is necessary, which I totally doubt. I intend to shake the hand of the new king of Smaiil, apparently my son in law. And mostly I intend to answer your question.'

He stopped at her front, taking her hands in his. 'You asked me why I call you Milady… There is a science in the language we call Phonology. It has a long story, beginning with… bit this is not such important now. We shall discuss it later if you are interested… The science explains how the words are been pronounced braking them into their composites, which is the base of my answer. The word Milady is composed by two parts. The pronoun My and the noun Lady. I call you Milady because you apparently _are_ a Lady…' He gently pulled her to himself, pressing her waist with his hand. He put the other hand's fingers on her face caressing it, then he sank them into her hair, unfolded the hairpin and let her auburn locks fall over her shoulders.

'…And you are definitely _Mine_.' He stared her eager eyes and pressed his lips on hers in a gentle kiss. She answered the kiss and put her arms around his neck, letting him press her tighter to him.

The Patrician moaned and lifted her in his hands, shoving the heavy door, leading to the staircase up. She smiled at him and put her head over his shoulder.

**THE END**

So. I finally finished. I hope you enjoyed the story the way I did. Soon will be the second part. Remember, Carrot is still lonely and in pain, which is it not fair.

I will see what happens to Lord and Lady Vetinari. Any suggestions?

Thank you for been with me during my journey. Have fun!


End file.
